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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30049863">Between broken electrics and careful touches</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vampurr/pseuds/Vampurr'>Vampurr</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Apex Legends (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>1950s AU, Also technically a not very good relationship on Natalie’s end, Autistic Wattson | Natalie Paquette, Beards (Relationships), Canon Autistic Character, DarkSparks, F/F, Fake Marriage, Her husband isn’t nice about her being autistic though because he is horrible, Implied Sexual Content, Internalized Homophobia, It’s also southern homophobia which is real sweet, Miscarriage, Period-Typical Homophobia, Slurs Are Used, Stimming, fake marriage between wraith and mirage, more characters and implied ships to be added later, no beta we die like men</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:41:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>39,171</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30049863</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vampurr/pseuds/Vampurr</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Most importantly, and this is incredibly important, Peter loves Natalie, if this wasn’t clear. His definition of love, though, is questionable. </p><p>Most importantly, and this too is incredibly important, Natalie thinks she loves him. </p><p>Or </p><p>Natalie is a housewife living in the suburbs of Atlanta, Georgia in the late 1950’s. The strange woman across the street suddenly becomes incredibly fascinating to her, much more so than her own marriage. At first a hoped friendship, it becomes something much more between broken electrics and careful touches.</p><p>(Chapter titles come from The Transitive Vampire by Karen Gordon)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Wattson | Natalie Paquette/Wraith | Renee Blasey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>158</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. I. If this is love, I’ve made a terrible mistake.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: F-slur used in the first chapter</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Natalie is not a good housewife. No, not in the slightest. </p><p>She can’t make a casserole. Neither can she make a pot roast, a pie, a potato salad, or a jello. Ingredients mixed together come out soggy, and if it went in an oven, it always came out burnt. She can’t clean either; she’s just simply not a neat person. Scraps of scribbled on paper are strewn about their suburban house, books in piles tower in almost every room, dust lines shelves and covers the adornments around the house. Dusting. Lord, she hates it. Natalie can get herself to do it for a few minutes before her mind becomes occupied, swept away by the ideas and concepts that struck her mind. The blonde could be doing much better things with her time, knows she could be doing much better things with her time, but this is what is expected of her. </p><p>(Papa had told her as much, and she knew it too. She ate up books too quickly when she was younger, excelled at the math she was taught and often begged for more, and had a passion for science that rivaled that of Thomas Edison himself. Electricity still fascinated her, still captured her attention like nothing else, and always left her wondering as she watched that lightbulb flick on in the kitchen. To understand that power, to harness it, she wished and craved for nothing more than that.)</p><p>Her husband also doesn’t seem to mind that they aren’t incredibly physical either. At least, Natalie liked to think he didn’t. A kiss on the cheek in the morning as he leaves for work and one in the evening when he returns was enough for them. They’d kiss occasionally, but no sweet feeling of love and adoration would blossom in her chest like everyone claimed it would. As far as she was aware, that was just an exaggeration; no one actually felt like that. It was sung in songs, written out in sprawling literature, discussed on the radio, played out on the movie scenes and television, but it was an exaggeration. This she was sure of. </p><p>Sure, they’d had sex, but Natalie didn’t particularly care for it. She figured he did, but for her, she’d just lie back and think of England. It was purely a carnal act, nothing more and nothing less. However, that’s to be given. She couldn’t say she really enjoyed it, but he did, so that’s what matter. After all, it was mainly for men, wasn’t it? </p><p>Nor did her husband seem to mind that Natalie hadn’t been able to bring him any children. That’s the one other thing that was expected of her, but she seemed to fail at that too. They tried, believe her they unfortunately had, but nothing ever came for it. A month would roll by and nothing would have changed, no signs to tell her that her curse of being a bad housewife had lifted. It taunted her and left her frustrated, but what could she do? Papa had always said that they had such a hard time trying to have a baby and were so lucky to when Natalie had finally come along. The joy on his face as he retold the story and his big smile on his aged face was forever imprinted in her mind. Ultimately, Natalie figured that she was the same but didn’t have the heart to tell Peter. Instead, she would grin and bare it, patting her husband on the shoulder and told him they would try again next month. </p><p>(Well... That wasn't entirely true. They had gotten close, but... No. They didn't talk about that.)</p><p>And then... there was her other affliction. The one they didn’t discuss, the one that she hide, the one that she knew she should be ashamed of and most certainly was, the one she couldn’t shake. It was probably the worst of her failings, if she had to choose. </p><p>No, Natalie Paquette did not make a good housewife. A dog could do better. </p><p>(No. Natalie Price. Price. She had to remember that. Her husband hated when she said anything otherwise.) </p><p>But, Peter does not seem to mind how bad of a housewife she is. He is a good husband, this Natalie knows. Blonde haired, blue eyed; the definition of an American boy, a particularly good one at that. He goes to work, only spends one night a week out with the boys, he’s faithful and cares deeply for his wife. They’d met in high school, you know, right when Natalie immigrated to the United States. He thought her broken English was cute and stuck to her like glue. He didn’t run when she saw the scar that she so desperately hid with makeup and long sleeves every day of her life, so Natalie figured it was a match made in Heaven. </p><p>Because that’s how it works, right? </p><p>And when her dad died, leaving her with a pain that would linger inside her forever, only a few months after they’d graduated from high school, Natalie had no one else to turn to except Peter. She came to his house that night and collapsed in his arms, sobs shaking her to her core. He held her, tried to sooth her the best he could, and as her sobs muffled out to mere hiccups, Peter asked her to marry him. How could she say no to someone who had been so kind to her, had been so hospitable to a girl in a foreign country, and hadn’t gawked at the sight of her scar? </p><p>(Arguably, she still doesn’t have anyone else besides Peter.)</p><p>So she said yes, feeling nothing. </p><p>Then Peter was drafted off to war, still a boy more than a man, and left her with the promise of their elopement and his faithfulness. They, like many others, followed this course, and after a few years, he came home. </p><p>*** </p><p>Most importantly, and this is incredibly important, Peter loves Natalie, if this wasn’t clear. His definition of love, though, is questionable. </p><p>Most importantly, and this too is incredibly important, Natalie thinks she loves him. </p><p>*** </p><p>Natalie had paused at her mailbox that one morning, bright blue eyes lifting up to look across the street, when she saw her. Pale blue eyes bore into the bright blue, and it made the blonde stop dead in her tracks. Her breath caught in her throat, and she suddenly felt very small. The second was over as soon as it had begun, but it only left her wishing it had carried on for just a little longer. </p><p>The other woman had already turned to continue on about her way, making a beeline for her door. Instead of looking away and continuing on with her business, Natalie’s eyes only followed, scanning over the other woman’s figure. She seemed older than Natalie but she had to be a few inches shorter than her, though not by a lot. Her raven black hair was thrown into a messy, unkept bun, a contrast to Natalie’s short but perfectly ironed bob cut. The way she was dressed was odd, a pair of beaten jeans and a black sweater thrown on for a top. Nothing like the day dresses Natalie picked out from the catalogues and wore herself. </p><p>The man that followed after was quite the opposite. His hair was unkept but not out of preference; it looked like nothing could tame the unruly curls on his head. He had a beard and almost looked a bit rugged, but he was dressed like he was ready for Wall Street. A tailored suit hugged his figure perfectly. </p><p>He was calling out after the younger woman, a grin on his face. It seemed they had just gotten home, from what Natalie realized in that moment. He looked charismatic, walked it too, and Natalie could only figure that was exactly who he really was. He seemed like a nice gentleman, even if the thought was a little naive. </p><p>A scoff beside her brought her back to reality and reminded her to breath. </p><p>“God Almighty, I wish they would leave, just find somewhere else to live,” her next door neighbor muttered beside her, stamping her foot on the concrete like a bull. She was an older woman, much older than Natalie; her children were already grown. It seemed like she had also come down to grab her mail and had paused for the exact same reason as Natalie.</p><p>“Good morning, Mrs.Smith,” Natalie greeted in her chipper tone, already putting on one of her signature smiles. Peter always said that was one of the best things about her. “Do you know the couple over there? I can’t say I have ever met them myself.” Curiosity had won her over; she could never resist, a cat drawn to dip a paw in water. </p><p>“The Witts?” Mrs.Smith replied, shedding a glance over to the blonde. She shook her head and scoffed again, a frown now on her lips. “I’ve never met them, no, but I sure don’t have any plans to.” </p><p>“Why’s that?” Natalie pressed, tilting her head. The Witts were frankly now a fascinating subject, especially that other woman. “They seem perfectly fine to me.” </p><p>“There’s something weird about them, honey, that’s all I’m saying,” Mrs,Smith began to explain. Her hands were on her hips now as she looked over at the house. “That woman is in and out of the hospital, and not one for when you’re ill or got a broken bone, or so I’ve heard,” she carried on, ready to dump all the gossip on the blonde. “Besides that, they’re not home a whole lot, at least Mr.Witt. He’s got some big job down in the city for a department store, but that don’t mean nothing to me. There’s something off about him too. I’ve seen a lot of cars over there and some real colorful characters. Do you want to know what I think?” </p><p>Natalie didn’t even have time to answer before Mrs.Smith continued on. </p><p>“I think they’re faggots,” Mrs.Smith muttered, her expression darkening. Again, another stamp on the ground with her foot. “They’ve got to be. There’s just nothing square about either of them. Their marriage is a sham, or so I’ve been lead to believe.” </p><p>Natalie nodded along, trying her best not to grimace. Peter had used that word against Natalie before, so she knew it well. He’d accuse her of being one when she put having sex with him off, but she’d very promptly tell him she wasn’t. Because, as far as Natalie was aware, she wasn’t. “Oh, I don’t know, Mrs.Smith... Suppose they just aren’t really friendly. Not everyone is, you know. Maybe they just like their space,” she offered. </p><p>(Natalie knows all too well that the way she looks at other women is not right. Her eyes linger and trace their figure, looks at the angles in their faces with a fascination like any other, wonders what their lips would be like against her own. She tries her best to chalk it up to simple admiration, but truthfully she knows that is not the case. She knows this is wrong and tries her best to smother it, keep it in check, let no one know, especially Peter. That desire, though, still festers and bubbles when she peers at the women in magazines or when she saw that strange woman across the street.) </p><p>“Believe what you want, Natalie, I’m just warning you. There’s something weird about them,” Mrs.Smith replied with a shake of her head. She then sighed and looked back at Natalie. “But that’s enough of that, eh? How have you and Peter been? Any luck with a baby yet? I could tell you what my Laurette did; she struggled with having children but then she tried...” </p><p>The blonde had stopped fully paying attention to Mrs.Smith at this point, only giving short answers. She didn’t want to talk about Peter and the improbable baby; she wanted to know more about the woman across the street. </p><p>Luckily, she had just one trick up her sleeve that could possibly work. </p><p>*** </p><p>Natalie carefully balanced the dish on one hand as she knocked her knuckles against the door. It was a quiche, one of the few things she could make. French dishes came by naturally, but with American dishes, as she had came to learn, were a disaster. Peter, unfortunately, just didn’t really care for her traditional dishes. </p><p>(Just like he didn’t care for many things.) </p><p>She stood there for a second, almost awkwardly, as she waited for that mysterious yet incredibly captivating woman. Really, she had filled her thoughts since she last had seen her. It made Natalie's heart flutter in her chest, but she promptly pushed the sensation away. Once again, she told herself it was just finding her so pleasing to the eye, admirably so. It wasn’t something she could ever accomplish herself, especially with her scar. There was also that silent desperation to make a friend. The blonde spent most days by herself until Peter came home, and she'd never had many friends. It seemed like Mrs.Witt could use someone too, from what Natalie could tell. </p><p>So that was what it was: admiration and hopes of a friendship. Nothing more, nothing less. </p><p>However, after a few minutes ticked by, Natalie began to grow a little hopeless. She wracked her knuckles against the door one more time, a frown gracing her usually joyful features. Suppose she should of phoned ahead before she came over with a still warm quiche and a hopeful heart. The blonde could try tomorrow, she supposed, but the quiche wouldn't be as good. </p><p>She turned on her heels, but the click of an unlocking door made her stop. Once again, here came Natalie's smile and bright, excited eyes. Words were already beginning to bubble in her throat. Oh, please don't let her come off as over compensating, she hoped. </p><p>Slowly, the door opened. That same woman before, pale blue eyes and blank face, stood in the doorway, looking over the blonde. Not a word fell out of her mouth. Eventually, the mystery woman went to rest her back against the door frame and crossed her arms. She raised an eyebrow at Natalie, still with that same unreadable expression. The hum of the radio flowed from behind her, a soft jazzy tune that Natalie couldn't recall. </p><p>Natalie was all ready to fill the silence, even without an invitation for her to speak. "<em>Bonjour<em>- I mean, hello!" Natalie greeted, her smile only growing. Her cheeks turned pink as her native tongue slipped into her speech, a habit she never could break. "I'm Natalie Price. I live across the street with that blue Buick Roadmaster out front if you've seen it," she continued. "I thought I'd introduce myself since I never have before, and I brought you a quiche as... a token of friendship," she told her gleefully. She now presented the dish with both hands, now looking rather proud of herself. This was going swimmingly besides the fact that the other woman had yet to utter a word. </em></em></p><p>
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</p><p>The other woman still stared at Natalie, eyes growing a little wide. The blonde continued to ramble, particularly about the ingredients she used just in case of an allergy, until she finally stopped herself when she realized not even a peep had come from the other woman. Giving an awkward laugh, Natalie waved her one free hand. "<em>Pardon<em>, I can get carried away a little bit. My husband always fusses at me for it; I just get in my own little world, it seems. I don't think I've even gotten your name, Mrs.Witt!" </em></em></p><p>
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</p><p>God, Natalie would give more than just a quiche to just know her name. </p><p>
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</p><p>A stark silence fell between them, only the tune of that jazz song from inside dulling the sharpness of the silence. Natalie shifted her weight from one foot to the other, tapped her fingers softly underneath the cookware the quiche was in, and bit her lip. All Mrs.Witt seemed to do was look at her, still trying to make up her mind as to decide what to think about the rambling, oddly excited Frenchwoman standing in front of her. </p><p>
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</p><p>The melody continued to play behind them. It had changed to another song, one with a few words. As the two stared each other down, one with hopeful yet hesitant eyes and the other simply blank, the lyrics flowed by them: </p><p>
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  <em>My baby don't care for shows</em><br/>
<em>My baby don't care for clothes<br/> </em>
<em>My baby just cares for me </em>
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</p><p>"Renee." </p><p>
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</p><p>"Pardon?" </p><p>
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</p><p>"Renee, that's my name," she said with a flat voice. She seemed to keep her distance like that of a wary animal, but her face betrayed her. Her gaze had softened a little now, and there was a hint of what looked like amusement on her face. "And really, you didn't need to bring a quiche. I can promise you, Elliot and I probably won't even be able to finish it."</p><p>
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</p><p>Natalie watched her carefully. “That’s a lovely name,” she breathed out, quieter than she meant it to be. She seemed almost in a trance, her mind having wondered somewhere entirely else, but she quickly shook out of it with a few blinks. Giving Renee another bright smile, an inkling of her heart hoping it had the same effect it had on Peter, she pushed the quiche towards her. “No, really! It’s my pleasure! Besides, Mrs.Smith, the older lady who lives right next to me, if you’ve seen her, had told me that you’d been in and out of the hospital, so I figured it would help take some stress of off you.” </p><p>
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</p><p>Renee’s gaze suddenly snapped up, looking over to Mrs.Smith’s house across the street. Her eyes narrowed for a moment, anger flickering in her usually blank eyes, and her mouth became a very thin line. “Has she been saying that?” she muttered, more to herself than Natalie. The blonde nearly answered her, but the older woman had already looked back down to Natalie. “Whatever,” she huffed, shaking her head. “I... don’t really have a way to repay you, but... thank you for this.” </p><p>
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</p><p>“Oh, mon dieu, it was-“ </p><p>
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</p><p>Renee’s hand traced along the back of Natalie’s. She ran two fingers along soft skin, along the top down her ring finger, and subtly tapped that damned wedding ring on Natalie’s finger before taking the quiche from the blonde. One may call it a chaste touch; it could merely be seen as an accident or maybe a precaution to make sure the plate didn’t tumble to the floor if one were to ask. </p><p>
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</p><p>But that smile on the other woman’s face, that tilt of her head, that look in Renee’s eyes told a completely different story. Without saying a word, the older woman spoke volumes. She knew something Natalie didn’t know or was much too afraid to actually admit to herself. </p><p>
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</p><p>Again, the blonde felt small underneath the other woman’s gaze. Despite such a small touch, it felt electric, a shock that ran through her entire system. Her breath caught in her throat and eyes wide, Natalie’s cheeks instantly grew a bright red. She  began to stammer something out, wanting to say anything and everything, before a loud popping noise went off behind Renee. An electric shriek soon sounded, already causing a great alarm from Natalie.</p><p>
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</p><p>The jazz had stopped. </p><p>
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</p><p>Renee, however, remain unaffected. She groaned and turned to look back into her house. “Fuck,” Renee muttered without much thought. Natalie never dared to use such language, and even then, it was in French. It was unladylike, she had always been told, and she knew Peter would hate it if one of those words ever escaped her lips. </p><p>
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</p><p>Eyes still wide and back completely straight, Natalie quietly asked, “What was that?” Her voice was weaker than she meant it to be, whether it was out of fear of the noise or the fear that Renee knew something that Natalie didn’t. </p><p>
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</p><p>“The radio. I keep telling Elliot that we need a new one, but he just hits this one a few times until it plays again. He’s an idiot to think that’ll do the trick. That works for about an hour before it, well, dies again... it’s driving me insane. I’m about to just throw it away and replace it without him knowing.” </p><p>
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</p><p>“What kind is it?” </p><p>
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</p><p>“A Crosley from... God, I guess we bought it when Elliot and I got married,” she mused, rolling her eyes as she said the word marriage, “which has been... Shit. I don’t remember. What I’m saying is that it’s old as hell. Why do you ask?” </p><p>
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</p><p>With a gesture and a quiet “May I?”, Natalie asked if she could come in. Renee stepped aside and lead her down the hall to where the poor radio sat. The blonde picked it up and looked it over. Oh, it sure was an older model, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be fixed. She’d have to find a manual and blueprints, probably a replacement part and wire too but the smacking probably meant she would need more... </p><p>
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</p><p>(Her hands still remember cool metal, bright wires, the tough plastic hilts of tools. She’d tinkered before, underneath her father’s watchful eyes. Admittedly, she had never really stopped. She touched Peter’s tool kit more than he ever did, breaking apart various machines in their garage when they stopped working and learning to fix them. Their inner workings amazed her. Peter said it was silly of her, that she should just throw them out and buy another, but Natalie was not one to give up on things; everything had potential, she argued, just like electricity held back by a switch. It was only when the boys had gone to war had she been able to make it a lifestyle, eventually working her way up to look over the machines in the factories and fix them when they went array. Oh, Natalie missed it, missed it more than she had missed Peter.) </p><p>
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</p><p>A cough brought Natalie back from her thoughts. The blonde looked back up to the raven haired woman who still stood beside her, and she offered a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I got lost in thought, but I think I can fix it if you’ll let me. May take me a few days, but I believe I can have it running like new with a little work.” </p><p>
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</p><p>“Really?” Renee said, a little surprise in her voice. Her eyes again became calculating and careful as she looked back at the blonde. “I... wouldn’t of guessed you knew anything about this sort of thing but... if you can fix it, that would be great. Can I... pay you back?” </p><p>
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</p><p>Natalie waved a hand at her to tell her not to worry, her smile growing. “Non, not at all. It won’t cost me a whole lot. Just...” she trailed off, racking her brains as what to say. The blonde tilted her head and tapped a finger against her chin. She had come to make a friend, hadn’t she? Her smile grew bright and bigger, innocent excitement alight in all her features. “Pay me back with some company, oui? I could always use a friend!” </p><p>
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</p><p>A hand softly went to rest on the blonde’s shoulder, making Natalie pause. An incredibly chaste and meaningless touch, frankly a friendly one, but it burned into Natalie’s skin. A good warmth, really one to be desired. All her senses were alert, and she felt all her words suddenly run back down her throat.  “That’s fine with me,” Renee spoke simply now, offering a small smile. Her eyes had gone to look at the radio in the blonde’s hands, but Natalie just stared at her face. Even then, there was a glint in Renee’s eye, something brewing behind the pale blue irises, that Natalie couldn’t place, and it both scared and fascinated her. </p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Song Used: My Baby Just Cares For Me - Nina Simone</p><p>I hope you enjoyed! Please let me know what you think! This will most likely be a chaptered fic unless I suddenly lose motivation.<br/>However if there is any /intense/ badgering for a next chapter, I will abandon this quicker than you can apologize for it. Asking politely and nice comments, on the other hand, are different and very encouraged!</p><p>Anyway... Man, this has been my little brain child for a hot second until I finally could come up with a plot. I just wanted to see Wattson in a 1950’s housewife outfit, and then I came up with /this/</p><p>I also strive for historical accuracy within reason, especially given all the frantic googling I’ve done for this fic. You can see my sources if you want skdjfjsk If you find an error though, please let me know!<br/>And if you’ve got questions, let know me know! I love answering questions for the AUs I put together :^D</p>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. II. The hand that is languishing on the windowsill was once mine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Shoutout to my best friend, Kirby, for helping me come up with what Renee would wear and for being willing to listen to me talk about this AU all the time. I love you, dude! <br/>He also suggested the song Big Houses by Squalloscope for this fic, and he hit the nail on the head. It fits it wonderfully! </p><p>TW: N/A</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Natalie made a temporary workshop in the garage, having pushed out a table and scattering tools around it. For the most part, they never really used the garage. A few boxes from their move sat in the corners, and most of the space was reserved for the Wolseley Hornet that rested there. It had been Papa’s car, and she couldn’t bear it get rid of it. Even when Peter had tried to get her to drop it off at the dump so their Buick had a safe place to reside, she had put her foot down. </p><p>The radio is rather easy to fix once Natalie has pried it open. It seemed that the electrical wiring had been faulty from the start; honestly, it was a wonder that the little machine had lasted so long to begin with. It was a short circuit that had only been more jostled, probably thanks to the loving whacks it received from Mr.Witt. It had started to burn through the wire now, getting very close to posing a fire hazard. She was glad she caught it when she did; she would hate for something to happen to Renee. </p><p>After a little bit of searching for the proper replacement wire and testing it out, it looked like Natalie had finally fixed it. As she flicked the radio back on and another jazz tune spilled out of the speakers, Natalie clapped her hands together and began to jump in place. Eventually the excitement traveled down to her fingertips, and she began to flap her hands. </p><p>She could just imagine the look on Renee's face when she would present the fixed radio to her. Eyes softening, another secret smile, hands outstretched to take the little machine from her. Her mind wandered a little more, an indulgence she allowed herself for only a few moments. Radio put aside, arms outstretched for a hug, soft lips possibly pressed to her cheek, something sweet whispered in her ear. </p><p>(These thoughts come often now, even though she barely knows the woman across the street. When Natalie is suppose to be asleep, she’ll instead stare up at the ceiling, having an endless battle with the thoughts. To let them grow or to force them to wither; she can never make up her mind. The soft snores from Peter beside her and his arm around her waist only make it worse. A reminder more than anything.) </p><p>But, it was incredibly fleeting. Natalie shut down the thought as soon as it came through. She wasn’t allowed to think that. That wasn’t something she could have nor desire. </p><p>Besides...</p><p>"Well, what has the cat dragged in this time?" A teasing voice from the door made her pause her celebration. Peter stood in the doorway to the garage, giving her a smile. He was still in his work clothes, grease still smeared across his shirt and his overalls hanging off his frame. He worked further into Atlanta, working on the engines for Delta airplanes and making sure they were ready to fly. </p><p>Besides, Natalie had Peter. </p><p>Her voice was light and excited. With a smile balanced on her lips, she quickly replied, “Just this radio-“ </p><p>“Wait, stop that, Nat,” he said rather sternly, and pointed towards her still flapping hand, “I told you not to do that with your hands, Nat.” It was a sudden shift, only leaving her able to nod. Yes, he had told her that; why couldn’t she remember? Stupid, stupid, stupid. </p><p>Turning and hiding her hands behind her back, she gave him a forced smile. It’s not something Natalie can help; the habit, as she’s come to call it, comes when she’s excited or happy. Neither is it something she really seems to be able to stop. They still continue to move behind her, but at least he can’t see it. It will be over in a few more moments, this she is sure of. </p><p>“Lord almighty, that is an old radio,” he commented, now stepping over to her and looking over to the table. He peered over it and poked carefully at one of the wires. His southern drawl tugged on every word. “Now where did you get this, Nat? I don’t remember ever gettin’ this one... Probably worth it to just throw it in the trash now; it’s real old.” </p><p>“Oh, but I fixed it!<em> Comme neuf!</em>” she said, moving over to tap the side of the radio. “And it’s not ours, it’s the Witts from across the street? Have you met them?” </p><p>“The Witts?” he questioned back before shaking his head. “Can’t say I have... They new, aren’t they?” He then paused for a moment, obviously wracking his brain. “Think I’ve heard about them though... Don’t Mr.Witt got some big fancy job down at the Sears? Down in Fourth Ward?” He then shook his head, frowning. “Don’t know what he doing down here. He should have a house in Buckhead by now.” </p><p>“I didn’t... catch that part, I just talked to-“ </p><p>Cut off again. “Don’t you listen, Nat?” he said with a sigh. “Or did you just go over there and talk your head off?” </p><p>Forcing that smile to stay on her face, she cleared her throat. Peter had never been a good listener or all that patient, but she was the one who married him. “No, I didn’t. He wasn’t home. I actually met his wife, Renee. She is very nice, and I think we are going to be friends! I took the radio from her; it was having some trouble.” Natalie was slow, patient, and careful with her words. The blonde needed to be to get through to him. </p><p>“That’s awfully kind of you to do, but...” he chuckled and placed a hand on her shoulder, “shouldn’t you leave this kind of work to us men? Don’t want you hurting that pretty little face of yours.” He reached up now, cupping her cheek and flashing her a smile. “Last thing we want is you getting another scar!” He cracked up at his little joke, but Natalie just tried to keep that stupid smile on her face. </p><p>“Yes... we don’t want that,” she responded, letting her gaze fall to the radio. Her voice had been quieter than she expected, and Peter picked up on it too quickly. </p><p>“Oh, come on, honey, you know I was joking,” he quickly added, nudging her with his shoulder. With a quick kiss pressed to her cheek, he thought he had just about redeemed himself. “I’m just saying... It’s not safe. Don’t want you getting hurt on a broken wire. I just care about you is all; I wouldn’t be saying this if I didn’t.” </p><p>Natalie nodded, letting out a sigh. “No, I know... I’ll... I’ll stop after this,<em> oui</em>?” Saying that made her feel like she was smothering some part of herself with the intent to kill, even though she knew very well she would do it regardless. It hurt, but the blonde didn’t let it show. </p><p>He flashed her another one of those perfect smiles. It’d have just about any girl swooning, but Natalie felt nothing. Peter wasn’t an unattractive man; in fact, he was quite the obvious. Strong build from his time in the flight hangar, straw colored hair cut back in that Hollywood hairstyle that was all the rage, sky blue eyes that always had a certain twinkle to them. She’d seen women look at him on the street and how jealousy would spark in their eyes. Natalie had done well, no doubt about it. It was just... </p><p>Natalie just wished, in the far depths of her mind that she tried to keep quiet, they’d been looking at her. </p><p>“Hey now! That’s my girl! Now you’re finally listening to me,” he exclaimed, his voice plenty joyful. With a final few more pats on her shoulder, he began to move towards the door. “But seriously, I wouldn’t bother with that radio anymore. Mr.Witt just needs to get a new one. He got enough money to pay for one, I’m sure.” </p><p>She nodded. “I’ll just go deliver this to Renee then, tonight or tomorrow, I suppose.” Natalie had no intention of doing it tonight; she’d much rather wait till Peter had left for work. </p><p>The excitement and contentment that came as Peter stepped back into the house quickly over took Natalie, but it was quickly short lived. The man was soon sticking his head back into the doorway, obviously already being struck with another thing to say. God, Natalie just wanted nothing more than peace and quiet. </p><p>“And Nat, whatcha making for Sunday lunch after church? Mama wants to know, just to get an idea,” he explained. “And nothing French. You know she don’t like that; ain’t nobody in the family does. It’s gotta be something southern.” He clicked this tongue a few times. “Think you could try biscuits?” </p><p>The last time Natalie tried to make biscuits, she couldn’t get them to rise and, as she is prone to do, let them burn in the oven. She couldn’t get the burnt smell out for days. However, she pulled up another smile, so fake and insincere, and said very sweetly, “Of course, dear.” </p><p>Another smile, a quick “Thank you, I love you, Natalie,” and Peter is gone. </p><p>Natalie slammed her hand on the table, making the radio quietly shake. </p><p>Another song spilled out of the radio. The upbeat tune filled the seemingly silent garage. Stan Getz’s familiar <em>I Want To Be Happy</em> played out through the room, the trumpet already making it feel so despicably brighter. </p><p>*** </p><p>“<em>Bonjour</em>, Renee!” Natalie exclaimed as the door opened, already with a huge smile on her face and incredibly bright eyes. In one hand she held the fixed radio and a small container in the other. The biscuits had come out hard, but the gougeres came out just fine. </p><p>No, Natalie hadn’t changed. Still a horrible housewife. </p><p>At least she looked like a good housewife though. Dressed in her finest day dress, a blue cotton, and a light cardigan thrown over it to keep her scar hidden, she certainly fit the bill.</p><p>The older woman opened the door with a deadpanned expression, but it faded as soon as she saw who it was . The hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Oh, Natalie, I wasn’t expecting you,” she said, her tone soft. She still wasn’t wearing a dress, much to the blonde’s surprise; in fact, it looks like Renee is wearing something straight from the men’s section of the catalogue. A button down shirt with a few buttons undone and a pair of thin slacks adorned her thin figure; rarely was this ever seen on another woman. In her hand, Renee held a book; it looked like the blonde had interrupted her while she had been reading. </p><p>“<em>Oui</em>, I know. I should of phoned you first, but I was just so excited,” Natalie said, practically about to start bouncing on her feet. She held up the radio for Renee to see it in all of its glory. “I was able to fix this yesterday. It should be good as new!” </p><p>A grin cracked across Renee’s face. The sight of it made Natalie’s heart flutter. “Really? You fixed it?” She said before letting out a sigh of relief. “Thank god, I’ve missed it. I hate being in a silent house.” </p><p>“Oui, I really did! It was actually a lot easier than I thought. Just a faulty wire is all,” she explained, half expecting the other woman to not really care. Peter never did; it was always him telling her to quit messing with what was very obviously a man’s job. </p><p>“Really?” Renee mused for a moment. “I am a little curious as to how it stopped working, especially if I can blame it on Elliot.” </p><p>A giggle escaped Natalie’s lips. “Then you are in luck.”</p><p>It was probably the light, but a light shade of pink crept up Renee’s cheeks as Natalie giggled. For a moment, she seemed a little dazed. But then that grin grew on her face. “That’s perfect. Come on in, you’ve got to tell me everything,” she invited, stepping aside to let her in. </p><p>Giving her another sweet smile, the blonde stepped inside. </p><p>After leaving Natalie to make herself comfortable in the living room to gather some drinks, the blonde settled down on the couch. She fiddled with the radio for a moment till noise slowly rumbled out of it. She turned it low, just to have as pleasant background noise, before setting it down on the coffee table. With nothing else to fill the short time with, Natalie’s eyes drifted around the room. </p><p>When she had came in here to retrieve the radio, Natalie hadn’t stopped to really look at it. It looked fancy to her, much more plush than her own. A long couch, a coffee table, a few single seater chairs, some bookshelves, and some decorative items were placed strategically around the room. Being all in the same color and style, it certainly drew the entire room together. </p><p>Still, despite the looks of the room, it felt well lived in. Shoes that had been kicked off rested beside a chair. A small wine stain on the couch looked very frantically cleaned but to no avail. Pillows were slumped and cushions were a little worn. A blanket that didn’t match was thrown over an armchair, often used. A few photos were hung on the walls, but they almost all seemed to be of Elliot. </p><p>(And Natalie does not think about how she would fit into this picture. She does not think about being pushed back into the couch by Renee, a firm kiss to her lips and a hand sliding up her dress. She does not think about spilling more wine on that poor couch because Renee said something and Natalie couldn’t help but laugh. She does not think of being curled up in that armchair in Renee’s lap, resting her head on her chest and drifting off to sleep while she reads. Natalie does not think these thoughts.) </p><p>Natalie eyes scanned over the book titles that she could see from where she sat. While her tastes usually led her down the nonfiction route, the books on the shelves were the opposite. Most of the titles she didn’t recognize; <em>Well of Loneliness</em>, <em>On a Grey Thread</em>, <em>Women’s Barracks</em>, and <em>Spring Fire</em> were some of the books that sat on the shelf. </p><p>Before she could continue, Renee had already walked back into the room. </p><p>“I hope you’re alright with just water. Elliot must of drank the rest of the sweet tea this morning, and it’s a bit too early for alcohol,” she explained, placing the drinks down onto the table. “And it looks like you’ve already got the radio on! Natalie, you’re a godsend.” </p><p>Oh, her cheeks turned a light pink at the compliment. Natalie moved a few pieces of hair from her face in a nervous habit. “Oh really, it was nothing. I’m just happy I could help you.” </p><p>“Where did you- oh, one second,” Renee stopped her words as an insistent sound came from the door out to the yard. It sounded like something was hitting against it, a scratching sound that seemed desperate to get inside. “Are you okay with dogs, Natalie? Path is wanting to come back in.” She had already hopped up and moved to the door, ready to let the little beast back in. </p><p>“<em>Oui</em>, that’s fine!” She responded rather quickly. Natalie adored animals. “I’ve always wanted a pet, but Peter says they’re too messy and belong outside.” </p><p>“That’s a shame,” Renee replied, her attention on the door. She opened slowly it, pausing her words to try to calm the dog down with a few commands. It was of no use though; a rather excited West Highland Terrier bolted in and made a beeline to Natalie. “I didn’t think I’d like a dog until Elliot brought him home, without asking me mind you, but now I don’t know what I’d do without him.” </p><p>“What’s his name?” Natalie asked, already scooping up the little dog and cradling him in her arms. He licked her face fervently, his tail wagging. His collar jingled and shook as he showered Natalie in his affection. </p><p>“Pathfinder, but we call him Path for short,” Renee replied, coming back to settle beside Natalie on the couch. “I know it’s a little odd, but it fits him when you get to know him. He loves walks and drags us around constantly.” </p><p>“<em>Bonjour</em>, Pathfinder,” Natalie cooed, running her hands through his wiry white fur. “<em>Un si beau garçon</em>!” </p><p>“He is a good dog,” Renee added, a fond look on her face as she watched Natalie pet the little dog. “And that is French you’re speaking, isn’t it?” </p><p>“<em>Oui</em>!” Natalie answered, now bringing her attention to the woman sitting beside her. “It’s my native language. I’m from France, but Papa and I moved to the United States a little before the start of the second war.” </p><p>“And you picked Georgia of all places?” Renee asked, a chuckle escaping her lips. </p><p>“<em>Oui</em>. It was the first job offer he got, and Papa didn’t want to wait any longer, especially since it seemed another war was already brewing,” Natalie shared, giggling a little herself at Renee’s obvious dislike of the state. The Frenchwoman found the state to be a nice, just a little hot. Admittedly, though, she had nothing else to compare it to. “He was an electrical engineer, a very talented one at that.” She could feel her heart begin to grow heavy as she talked about her father; even though it had been years, that wound still couldn’t heal. </p><p>(Natalie remembers when she made her first simple circuit from spare wires and a single light bulb she’d found in a cupboard. She couldn’t of been older than five. Underneath Papa’s watchful gaze and his guiding hands, the lightbulb flickered and lit up the cluttered workshop. She remembers the joy that sprung in her heart, simply blown away in sheer amazement at the miracle that science could be. She cheered and laughed, kicking her feet up and clapping her hands, and Papa picked her up and spun her around. His smile had been bigger than her own, his joy immense and immeasurable. He was so proud, so much that you could see it in every inch of his face. Like father, like daughter; different in gender and the expectations that society had of them, but the same in every other way.) </p><p>“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, I see,” Renee said, taking a sip from her water. Was she trying to hide a smile?</p><p>Natalie’s cheeks flushed at the compliment, but it wasn’t enough to quell the heaviness in her heart. “I can only hope to be half as good as he is,” she said quietly with a sad smile. Her gaze fell to the dog still curled in her lap, calmer but still with a wagging tail. It was time to change the subject; the last thing she needed to do was begin to cry in front of a woman she barely knew. “Do you not like Georgia, Renee?” </p><p>A sigh escaped the older woman’s lips, and she frowned. “It’s alright enough,” she finally replied. “Elliot and I are from up north. I liked it there a lot more; Georgia is... too hot for my liking and too set in its ways.” </p><p>“Why did you move then?” </p><p>For a moment, Natalie could of sworn that Renee faltered. Her eyes widened, and gaze fell to her hands for a moment. She looked caught off guard. “I... uh. Elliot was offered a position to look over the Sears in Fourth Ward and... other circumstances made it seem like a good idea,” she mumbled out. “Plus, Path gets a yard to play in down here.” </p><p>As much as the blonde wanted to press, she knew when to not. Offering a reassuring smile, Natalie replied, “I understand. It hurts to leave a place that you’ve called home for so long. Do your parents still live there, or did they follow you down here?” If Papa was still alive, she couldn’t imagine moving far away from him. </p><p>At first Renee nodded at her words, but then she faltered again. She looked down to Pathfinder this time, eyes wide and almost worried. “Uh... I actually...” </p><p>“Oh, I didn’t mean to pry! It’s fine if you don’t want to tell me,” Natalie assured her, waving her hands as if to tell Renee to stop. It was a little odd to her that she didn’t want to discuss her parents, but suppose she had her reasons. </p><p>“Oh, no. It’s okay,” Renee slowly said. She sighed again. “I actually... don’t know my parents. They could be alive or dead, but I don’t really know,” she mumbled, trying her best to keep eye contact with the blonde. “So I was put in a few different foster homes, kind of passed around because I was not the easiest child,” she chuckled at her words, “until I ended up with the Witts. Elliot’s mother is a miracle worker because she somehow got me to calm down, and... while Elliot is annoying as they come, he’s been a good friend of mine ever since.” </p><p>At once, Natalie felt bad for asking such a question. She didn’t guess that it would of brought along such an answer, and she didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories. She was quick to apologize, but Renee waved it off. </p><p>“So... I guess you knew early on that he was the one, right?” Natalie asked, almost teasing. </p><p>For some reason, Renee laughed at that. It was a sweet, deep sound, and once again Natalie felt the need to hear it again and again. As that pleasant sound finally died down, Renee wiped her eyes. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” </p><p>“What? What’s so funny?” Natalie asked. She didn’t understand why that had struck Renee as hilarious. It was her husband; surely she must of known something by that time. She hadn’t thought she’d said something funny either; it had technically been a serious question. Then again, many jokes went over her head. </p><p>Renee just patted Natalie on the shoulder and shook her head. “Oh Natalie, you’re a little more naive than I thought.” She seemed on the cusp of laughing again. </p><p>Oh, Natalie didn’t mean to but she pouted. Crossing her arms, she tilted her head. “What is that suppose to mean, Renee?” </p><p>Renee finally laughed again, her hands falling to her stomach. She shook her head and slowly got off the couch. “You’ll get it later, Natalie. I’m sure of it,” Renee offered, the words fighting through her laughter. “Listen, do you think you could look at something for me? It’s another electricity problem. I figured I’d ask before I forget.” </p><p>Even though she wasn’t ready to drop the conversation, Natalie was excited at the prospect of working on something else, especially if it meant something to Renee. She placed the little dog beside her on the couch before hopping up to follow the other woman. “<em>Oui</em>, of course! What is it?” </p><p>Renee waved her along, and Natalie followed behind. “There’s something wrong with the light in my closet. It just won’t turn on, and I know it’s not a blown circuit. Elliot checked the circuit breaker box this morning, and it said it was fine,” she explained as they made their way to her room. </p><p>“And you changed out the lightbulb, <em>oui</em>?” </p><p>“Yes, I changed the lightbulb,” Renee said. She rolled her eyes even though Natalie couldn’t see it. “I’m not that dumb.” Making it to the door, Renee opened it so Natalie could step inside. </p><p>“I know, I know! I’m just making sure,” Natalie replied with a giggle as she stepped inside. Again her eyes scanned over the room. </p><p>It was plain and much different than the living room. The furniture was simple; a full bed in the middle, a nightstand on both sides, a dresser, a standing mirror, and a single chair. There wasn’t much when it came to decor; most surfaces were bare except for the books sitting on top of the dresser. The only thing that proved someone used the room was the fact that the bed was unmade and a few discarded clothes were thrown over the chair. In a way, it seemed to fit the strange woman. </p><p>“The closet is a little hidden, it’s over to your right,” Renee told her. She stood behind her now. </p><p>Natalie nodded and went where she was told. The closet door was already ajar, showing a somewhat packed closet. Again, no dresses were to be found. In fact, it was still all rather masculine clothing; a few suit jackets, more slacks, a pair of jeans, a few sweaters, and more button ups hung carefully on hangars. Renee had said this was her closet, but it was hard to believe. It looked like a man’s. Without really thinking, Natalie reached out and ran her fingers over the fabric of a suit jacket. </p><p>“Oh, hold on.. I don’t think you can reach,” Renee suddenly said behind her, making Natalie draw her hand back quickly. “I forget how much taller Elliot is than me. Let me get you a chair.” </p><p>“<em>Oui</em>, that’d be appreciated. <em>Merci</em>, Renee,” she thanked the other woman. Her mind was somewhere else, though. She was already running over possible reasons in her head, trying to figure out the best course of action. The blonde titled her head as she thought. </p><p>Renee moved the chair over a few moments later, and Natalie carefully stepped on top of it. She leaned forward a little bit, her hand going up to unscrew the lightbulb they’d left in the socket. </p><p>The chair wobbled. </p><p>Natalie let out a squeak, the fear of falling beginning to creep up through her chest. </p><p>Renee moved closer, a hand going to rest on the small of her back. She looked up at Natalie, her eyes showing more worry than she wanted. “You alright, Natalie? The chair is a little uneven.” </p><p>“<em>O-Oui</em>, I’m fine,” Natalie mumbled out. All her attention had gone to the hand pressed carefully against her back. Again, it felt warm and secure. It lovingly burned into her skin, and it left her with that feeling of an electric shock thrumming through her body. </p><p>(She pushed away the thought of what else Renee’s hands were capable of. Smothered it. Drowned it. Killed it.)</p><p>“What do you think the matter is, Nat?” Renee asked almost innocently. Her voice was softer now. The blonde took notice of the nickname. It was all Peter ever called her, but it felt so sweet coming from Renee’s mouth. She bit her lip, already feeling her cheeks begin to burn. </p><p>“The... the metal tab in the socket...” </p><p>“Yeah?” Again, Renee’s voice was soft. </p><p>“It... it needs adjusting. The metal isn’t making proper contact with- with the bulb, so it’s not...” </p><p>“Turning on?” Renee finished her sentence. Now she rested her head against Natalie’s side, looking up at the electric socket. Natalie, however, didn’t dare take her eyes off of the lightbulb. </p><p>“<em>Correcte</em>,” Natalie mumbled out. </p><p>They fell silent as Natalie adjusted the metal. She tried her best not to think of the hand on her back and the head resting against her side. Usually, it’d be an easy fix. Her shaky hands, however, were making it much harder. Once the metal was replaced back in its proper spot, Natalie screwed the lightbulb back in. </p><p>“Go and turn on the light, Renee,” she instructed. She regretted it as soon as she said it; the feeling of warmth leaving her back was not one she had been ready to get rid of yet. </p><p>Without a word, Renee flicked the switch to the light. It blinked back on, happily lighting up the small little room. </p><p>“There we go!” Natalie said, unable to resist the urge to clap her hands. Her words were still shaky, but she just hoped Renee wouldn’t notice them. “Now you can see.” </p><p>“Thank you, Nat. You’ve saved me a lot of trouble,” the older woman replied, a small grin on her face. “Let me help you down? It’s the least I can do,” Renee offered, already extending her hand to help the blonde down. </p><p>“Oh, <em>merci</em>! I appreciate-“ </p><p>She stepped down but had misstepped it. She stumbled for a moment, but Renee caught her. She accidentally pulled her close, her cheeks a soft red paired with that grin of hers. Their faces were mere inches apart, and Natalie could feel her breath on her cheek. The blonde cursed herself for not paying attention; her mind had focused on the other woman holding her hand. </p><p>Sky blue eyes wide and lips parted, Natalie was at a loss of words.</p><p>“I didn’t know you were clumsy, Nat,” Renee softly spoke, keeping her eyes on Natalie’s. </p><p>No words came from Natalie. She’d forgotten how to speak. </p><p>Tilting her head, Renee chuckled. A hand ran along the side of Natalie’s jaw, making the blonde’s cheeks feel like they were on fire. “Has anyone ever told you that you have the prettiest eyes?” </p><p>“I... I...” Natalie stammered for a moment, averting her gaze to anywhere else that wasn’t the woman standing in front of her. Oh, she needed to get out of this situation. </p><p>“Well?” That grin on the other woman’s face grew. </p><p>“I...<em> Voudriez-vous regarder l’heure</em>!?” Natalie suddenly exclaimed, pulling away. Her hands began to rapidly smooth out her dress, just needing something to do with her hands. Renee did not need to see how much they shook. “I didn’t mean to stay this long. Peter will be home soon, and I need- I need to get started on dinner!” she explained, words flying out of her mouth quicker than she could think. She began to move towards the door, not even waiting on Renee. “I’m sure you know how it is, don’t you?” </p><p>She made her way out of the bedroom and towards the front door. Renee followed after her, and Pathfinder, now interested to see why his new friend was running so frantically out of the house, followed after them both. </p><p>“Regardless, it was so lovely getting to talk to you! Thank you for having me over! Your house is so lovely!” Natalie said, pulling the front door open. “You’ll be seeing me, I’m sure!” She stepped out of the house but stopped shortly after, hearing Renee ask a question. </p><p>“And when will that be?” Renee stood in the doorway, holding a very wiggly Pathfinder. </p><p>Turning on her heels, Natalie gave her the politest smile she could muster. “<em>Dieu aide moi</em>,” she muttered under her breath. Those thoughts buzzed in her head. It was wrong, it was so wrong, but she wanted it so badly. Natalie wasn’t going to give in. A woman cannot love another woman; it’s unnatural and a sin. There was still Peter to worry about too. If he found out, oh god, if he found out. It terrified her. Non the same breath, Renee had a husband too! What about him? Oh god, she absolutely cannot give in. It’ll be the death of her. </p><p>“How does tomorrow sound?”</p><p>
  <em>Merde.</em>
</p><p>She wanted to smack that grin off Renee’s face. Or maybe she wanted to kiss it off. Natalie couldn’t decide. </p><p>“That sounds good. We’ll see you later, Nat,” Renee replied. There was still that horrible grin on her face. She grabbed Pathfinder’s paw and waved it for him. “Say <em>adieu</em>, Path, <em>adieu</em>! We’ll see Natalie later.” And with that, the door to the Witts closed, leaving a flustered housewife standing in the driveway.</p><p>*** </p><p>“Renee, I knew you were crazy, but I didn’t know you were this crazy,” Elliot choked out between his laughter. He shoved her with his shoulder, nearly causing her to spill her appletini. “Another housewife?! Seriously?! I thought you learned your lesson last time!”</p><p>“Shut up, Elliot,” Renee muttered, giving him a deadly glare. She sipped the liquid, desperately needing it to deal with her incredibly loud husband. They also didn’t need another stain on the couch. </p><p>“I’m not the one who fell in love with the housewife in the apartment above ours back in Philly!” Elliot continued on, another fit of laughter striking him again. “Which, I might add, is the entire reason we ended up in Georgia! If her husband saw you again, he’d strangle you.” </p><p>“That’s if I don’t get him first,” she muttered with a frown on her face. God, she still hated that bastard. </p><p>“All I’m saying is we’re going to run out of cities to live in if you keep this up!” He said, shaking a finger at her. “And frankly, I’m starting to like Atlanta,” he raised his hands up and moved them in a rainbow, “the big A-T-L.” </p><p>“It’s just because you can’t get enough of that farmer living out in DeKalb county.” She spoke into her drink, rolling her eyes. </p><p>“Oh, shut up. That is not true,” he said with a scoff. “Bachelor for life, remember?” </p><p>“They gave you a taxidermy quail, and despite it clashing with your interior design, it is sitting in your room,” she argued. “And I know you do not like taxidermy. You said it’s tacky.” </p><p>“It was a gift! How could I say no?!” Elliot explained, giving her a hurt look. “Do you understand how rude it would be if I said no?” </p><p>“Whatever,” Renee sighed, and she shook her head. “You can tell yourself that.” </p><p>“You just don’t understand me, Renee,” he promptly told her. “We’ve been married for years, and you still don’t understand me,” he then whined, leaning against her. </p><p>“We are homosexuals, Elliot.” Her voice was flat; Renee was certainly not amused. </p><p>“Still doesn’t mean you can’t understand and love me!” </p><p>“I can’t believe I married you,” Renee scoffed, getting up from the couch. “I’m going to go read. Come back to me when you’re willing to admit you are in love with that farmer.” </p><p>“They have a name, you know,” Elliot corrected her. “Their name is Bloodhound.” His face lit up as he said their name. Renee could see it plain as day: he was head over heels, no matter what he said. </p><p>“Bingo,” she exclaimed, raising a single finger. “Just one look at your face tells me you are definitely in love.” She placed her appletini down on the table and went to go pick up the sleeping Pathfinder on the couch. </p><p>“Whatever, I’ve had enough of you. Go read,” he ordered, waving his hand at her to go. “And can you please put that rickety chair back outside? I literally put it outside this morning so it could be thrown away, but you brought it into your room for no reason.” His tone then got deeper, much more serious. “If you don’t, I’ll divorce you.” </p><p>Renee walked away, holding Pathfinder in one arm and flipping Elliot off with the other.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey y’all! I hoped you enjoyed this chapter. This is all I’ve been working on as of late, so I love all comments and kudos left on it. </p><p>Also, I will be making this six chapters instead of five because I realized one chapter has too much packed in it. I also mean to ask if you guys would like to see some smut later on in the fic? I’m not sure myself right now, but I thought I’d ask y’all. </p><p>Anyway, time for some fun Atlanta tidbits!<br/>- The Sears that I’m talking about did and still does exist! It was a Sears distribution and store front for a long time, but now they’ve repurposed the building. It’s now called Ponce City Market, and it’s one of my favorite places in Atlanta. Now it’s a food hall with tons of shops too. Hop’s Chicken is my favorite there; really good!<br/>- Atlanta is where the headquarters for Delta airlines! It’s also the busiest airport in the world which is pretty crazy.<br/>- Buckhead is still... well, Buckhead. It’s the glitz and glamor of Atlanta, and it has been for forever. Everyone rich lives here. It’s got some real pretty houses there. </p><p>Anyway, comments are loved and appreciated! Also if you have any questions, ask!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. III. This is the hand to kiss</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: F-slur, D-slur, Q-slur used in historical context</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It doesn’t take long before they are inseparable. When Peter isn’t home and the day is hers, Natalie finishes up her chores and then goes over to Renee’s house, sometimes carrying another french treat in a container. They talk, take Pathfinder on a walk, or simply enjoy each other’s company in silence. If she’s too tied up at her home with chores, Renee comes over to her’s instead. She helps, but it turns out that she is just as bad of a housewife as Natalie. Maybe even more because she cannot cook absolutely anything. </p><p>When Natalie can’t come over because Peter has the day off, she thinks about what she will do with Renee the next day. She thinks of new things to bake her and even more excuses to see her. She doesn’t think of holding her hand, the softness of her lips, her hidden smile, or maybe she does. Natalie would not tell you. Peter jokes with her that she’s had her head in the clouds more recently at first, but slowly becomes more and more annoyed. Something has captured his wife’s attention, and it’s not him. </p><p>Occasionally, the two women’s hands brush together. Touches to the shoulder or back stay there for a second too long. They sit close together on the couch even though there is plenty of room. Renee hides her smiles and blushes; Natalie does not hide them. </p><p>Mrs.Smith just stands at her mailbox and glares. She shakes her head slowly, very disappointed. </p><p>Natalie does not care about this. </p><p>As time passes, Natalie gets to know Elliot. He is just as charismatic and gentlemanly as the blonde had imagined him to be. Sometimes he surprises her with new dresses that he saw at Sears, usually ones that hasn’t even released yet. Natalie likes him. Elliot, in turn, likes Natalie. She is sweet and gentle, exactly what Renee needs. He brings her dresses to watch her twirl in them and see Renee watch her, adoration in her eyes and a smile hidden behind her hand. He loves seeing Renee so enamored, and it gives him something to tease her about later. He just hopes that Natalie doesn’t choose her husband in the end because, inevitably, that’s what always happens. She will have to choose, and he knows it. </p><p>As time passes, Renee gets to know Peter. Renee does not like Peter. She, in fact, despises him. She hears the way he belittles Natalie and sees how she stiffens as he goes to touch her. She sees how Natalie tries and has certainly smelt it through the burnt food that comes out of the oven, but he remains indifferent, unchanged. It infuriates her to no end. What hurts the most is seeing the blonde’s fake smiles; Renee knows the real ones too well. Peter, in turn, does not like Renee. He does not like the way she dresses or the way she acts. She is a woman and should act like one. There’s also something threatening about the tiny woman, but he can’t place his finger on what. He decides that she is a bad influence on his wife, but he doesn’t know what to do about it. </p><p>Natalie, also, does not care about this. </p><p>*** </p><p>Summer in Georgia is something to be reckoned with. The sun beats down on its victims, showing no mercy. It is unforgiving, and it accepts no bargains. The air is thick and humid, and it sticks to your skin like glue. Drought is common, leaving yards brown and suffering, and the only rain they’ll receive is through the freak showers that will pour for ten minutes and then abruptly stop. When it does rain, which is a miracle in and of itself, it pours. </p><p>This time around, Natalie and Renee had found themselves in one of the sudden storms. </p><p>Natalie extended her hand to catch a few of the drops, still incredibly thankful to have found a tree to stand under. Even the rain felt warm as it frantically tried to cool down the hot earth. She smiled at the droplets in her hand before drawing it back under the cover. Despite the rain ruining their walk, she was still a ball of sunshine. Pathfinder also seemed to be enjoying himself. He held his ball proudly in his mouth, tail wagging. Sure, his paws had turned brown with fresh mud, but he was happy. </p><p>Renee, on the other hand, was feeling neither of those ways. </p><p>“We almost made it, Natalie,” Renee lamented. “Almost made it. What are we, two hundred feet or so?” She pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out an annoyed sigh. “I literally can see the car.” </p><p>“Oh, it’s not so bad, Renee,” Natalie said in an attempt to comfort the other’s. She placed a hand on the other’s shoulder and gave her a sweet smile. That almost always seemed to quell the other’s bad mood, and this time was no different. The older woman’s features softened, and she reverted her attention back to rain. Renee cannot let her see the blush creeping up her cheeks. </p><p>“Who’s idea was it to go Grant Park exactly?” Renee asked the air, not really expecting an answer. “It’s only worth coming here if you are going to the zoo.” </p><p>“I believe that would be mine,” Natalie replied, giggling. “And I do not know what you mean. We have the zoo right here. <em>Petite bête!</em>” She pointed down to the Terrier who sat between them, tail still wagging. It never seemed to stop. </p><p>“Sure, sure. He might as well go. Throw him in with the wolves.” </p><p>“And he will come out on top. <em>Qu’est-ce qu’il ne faut pas aimer chez monsieur Pathfinder?</em>” </p><p>The dog just looked up at them and tilted his head. This made Natalie laugh while Renee just rolled her eyes. </p><p>They fell quiet for a few moments, simply watching the droplets hit against the earth. The rain continued to pour, slipping down the dirt and gathering in the edges of the concrete. It pattered as it hit the surface. They were the only ones around; others had already retreated to someplace dry or had made it to their car. </p><p>(They usually avoid people on their walks. Renee is not much of a people person, and Natalie simply follows along. However, Natalie is not a fool. She knows the way people look at them, especially Renee. Eyes judging and disgusted, smiles turning into sneers and frowns, moving away to avoid them as they walk. Sometimes, the blonde hears muttered words. Dyke. Queer. Faggot. Her back becomes straighter, her eyes focus on the path ahead. The blonde talks more then, trying her hardest to make sure Renee does not hear them. Natalie, though, has not realized her protectiveness of the other woman.) </p><p>Renee began to shrug off her tweed suit jacket.  “Alright, let’s make a run for it.” </p><p>Natalie looked back over to her, shock in her eyes. “What? Renee, you can’t mean that,” she said, frantically looking from the rain to the other woman. “I have a pair of flatties on! They have a heel! How am I suppose to run?” </p><p>“I’ve seen you run in much higher ones after Pathfinder,” Renee pointed out, giving her a grin. She then softly placed her jacket upon the blonde’s shoulders. “You can hold this over your head to keep your hair pretty.” </p><p>“But don’t you need it?” Natalie was ready to protest. </p><p>“Nah, don’t worry about me,” Renee replied, now bending down to pick up Pathfinder. He was more than ready to be picked up; a little dog like him could be swept away in such a fierce storm. “Your hair is much better than mine. Gotta keep it looking nice.” </p><p>“But-“ </p><p>“Just take it, Nat,” Renee insisted. Her grin grew, playful and excited. “I’ll see you at the car. Wait a minute or two so that I can have your car door unlocked for you.” </p><p>Without another word, Renee began to run towards the car. Natalie watched her with great interest, a smile returning to her face. Even though she knew that Renee was getting wet, a giggle couldn’t help but escape her lips. The older woman could be so amusing and caring at times, especially for Natalie. It wasn’t something many people would expect, but Natalie didn’t really mind; it was her own little secret, hers and only hers alone. </p><p>(More caring and sweet than Peter was.) </p><p>As the seconds ticked past, she began to grow anxious to begin her own run. She could see Renee had just made it to the car, now frantically shoving poor Pathfinder in. Natalie tugged the jacket off her shoulders, wanting to go ahead and prepare. The blonde was about to raise it above her head, but she raised it up to her face first. </p><p>(Just one indulgence. Just one. That is what she would allow herself. If Natalie can only have one thing, she could have this.)</p><p>She drew in the scent, one that she wished and prayed to be more familiar with. It smelled primarily of a men’s cologne and a hint of alcohol, simply a smell that Natalie couldn’t get enough of. She lowered it reluctantly, sighing. Her smile faltered, shifting to a small frown, and her eyes fell to the ground. </p><p>God, Natalie wanted Renee so badly, more than she had ever wanted anyone in her life. She wanted to hold her hand, kiss her lips, and sleep curled up beside her. She wanted the jacket being placed on her shoulders to be commonplace, not a rare occurrence. She wanted to whisper sweet nothings to her and cook her shitty American food and delectable French dishes. Natalie wanted a home with a dog and a cat and Renee. Though, more than anything, more than anything in the world, she wanted Renee to be the one to tug her closer with a hand on her waist and the one to kiss her cheek instead of Peter. </p><p>But that was it, wasn’t it? That was the problem. </p><p>There was Peter. </p><p>Not to mention, there was Elliot too. </p><p>The Frenchwoman felt tears prick in the corner of her eyes. Frantically they were wiped away, and she readjusted that priceless jacket above her head. It wasn’t an umbrella, but it would do. </p><p>It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair. </p><p>The blonde started her run to the car. What Renee had guessed was around a hundred feet or so appeared to be correct, but any distance always seemed longer when you had to run it. The little heel to her shoes didn’t help either, but the usual shoes she wore to go on walks with just clashed too much with this particular outfit. It would of been a real travesty if she had worn them; frankly, Natalie wouldn’t of been able to live with herself. </p><p>Once she finally made it to the car, Natalie frantically pulled the door open. She slide in as fast as she could and promptly shut the door, so incredibly thankful to be out of the rain. An excited Pathfinder hopped in her lap and began to lick her face as a greeting. Even though he got muddy paw prints all over her dress, Natalie didn’t mind. They were finally out of the rain, and besides, it would come out in the wash. </p><p>A laugh erupted beside her. “Oh god, Nat, I wish you could of seen you run,” Renee exclaimed, shaking her head and clutching her side. “God, you looked hilarious! The look on your face? Priceless!” </p><p>Smiling, Natalie threw the suit jacket at her friend. “Shut up!” she demanded, but even she was beginning to laugh. </p><p>“Why didn’t you cut through the grass? It would of saved you some time!” </p><p>“I am not getting my shoes dirty, Renee! They’re brand new!” </p><p>“Then why did you bring them to the park? They were bound to get dirty!” </p><p>Natalie opened her mouth to respond, but she promptly closed it. Renee was right, and there was nothing in the world that would get her to admit that. If she saw that stupid grin on Renee’s face, she didn’t know what she would do. Smack it off or kiss it, smack it off or kiss it? She did not know. Instead, she shoved her playfully with her arm, a coy smile growing on her face. Time to change the subject. “Look at you, you got all wet. Even more wet than monsieur Pathfinder!” </p><p>“Of course I am, I didn’t have-“ </p><p>Natalie had begun to move some of the wet hair from Renee’s face. She was careful, gently moving the black strands to their rightful place. A few tucked back behind her ear and some moved back to the side of her face. Her smile had grown soft now, and there was fondness in her eyes. “Silly Renee. You don’t always have to look out for me, you know? Rain won’t hurt me.” </p><p>(Wait. Wait. What was she doing? What was she doing?) </p><p>“I-“ Renee started, but ultimately stopped. Her cheeks were bright red now. Eyes wide and mouth still hanging open, she was obviously caught completely off guard. </p><p>Natalie tilted her head a little, eyebrows slightly raising. Now that all the hair had been moved, her hand had gone to rest against the other cheek. Slowly, she traced her thumb in a circular pattern over. “You can be so kind, Renee. Do you know that?” </p><p>(No. No. No. She can’t do this. This isn’t right. Natalie, what are you doing? What are you doing?) </p><p>No response. </p><p>“But you can let others be kind to you too, you know,” Natalie pointed out, her smile growing bigger. Her cheeks were light pink now, and her gaze fell to her hand. She had stopped tracing that pattern against the older woman’s skin. “I know... you’ve had a bit of a rough life when you were younger, but... that doesn’t mean you aren’t deserving of it.” Her eyes flicked up to panicked, pale blue eyes. “You’ll let me, won’t you?” </p><p>(Please. Natalie, you can’t do this. You know you can’t do this. Stop it. Stop it. Why aren’t you listening? You need to listen! You need to stop!)  </p><p>That’s when Renee jerked forward, hands going to cradle Natalie’s face and lips going to capture Natalie’s own. </p><p>Without hesitation, Natalie effortlessly melted into the kiss. Her hand continued to cup the other’s cheek, her other hand resting in her lap. She kissed back into the soft kiss, matching the other woman’s rhythm. </p><p>(Stop! Stop! Stop it! This isn’t right! You know this isn’t right! Why aren’t you stopping? Seriously, stop! Think of Elliot! Think of Peter! Oh god, what will Peter do?!) </p><p>It would of lasted longer, though, if Natalie hadn’t pushed the other woman back suddenly. Eyes wide, a look of panic on her face, hands immediately retracting back to her. She moved to the very corner of the seat rather quickly, keeping her distance. </p><p>Renee sat there, utterly confused. Though, whenever she tried to get the other to speak, not a single word would come out of her. Extending a hand was even worse, causing the blonde to shrink back as much as she could. Even Pathfinder was no use; no amount of pawing at her lap could get her to turn. Natalie’s eyes stayed focus on what was in front of her, and not even God could will her to look away. </p><p>With no luck, Renee started the car with a sigh. </p><p>It was an incredibly long and silent drive back to the suburbs. </p><p>*** </p><p>Natalie felt empty the week after. </p><p>She felt empty. </p><p>Empty when she washed dishes in the sink for her and Peter. </p><p>Empty when he held her close, a kiss pressed to her head, and he told her that he loves her. </p><p>Empty as she hummed along to the church’s hymns. </p><p>Empty when she muttered an “amen” as the prayer in church service came to a close. </p><p>Empty as she sat through Sunday dinner with Peter’s family, all through the laughter and talk. </p><p>Empty when she forced herself to kiss Peter that night, hands going to his face and pulling him down, hoping and praying that it will be somewhere remotely like what she felt with Renee. </p><p>Empty when they had sex that night. Especially, especially then. </p><p>A week passed, and she was empty. </p><p>She does not think of Renee that week. She especially, especially does not think of Renee. She especially, especially, especially wasn’t thinking about her when Natalie decided what to do. </p><p>*** </p><p>Renee hadn’t seen Natalie in a week. No knocks at the door, no sightings at the mailbox, no Wolseley Hornet leaving the garage. All the older woman saw was that dreaded Buick go to work in the morning and coming back at night. She saw that dreaded husband, whistling his way to and from the car. Renee glared at him whenever she could, hoping her gaze could burn holes through his stupid ego and masculinity. Oh, she wanted to smack him. Smack him to the moon and back, then some more. </p><p>Going up to the house didn’t seem to do anything either. No knocking or pleading at the door would do anything. Even bringing Pathfinder up did nothing; his whines and scratching at the door proved unfruitful. The house, as far as Renee knew, was vacant until Peter came home. There was no sign of life, and there was certainly no sign of Natalie. </p><p>Mrs.Smith had caught her after one failed attempt. She’d been watching from her porch, and she made her way down as Renee had begun to walk away. Eyes narrowed, frown evident, and stamping her little foot like a stupid tiny bull, the old woman was ready to put up a fight. “You leave her alone now, dyke,” the old woman growled in her direction, giving her a glare. She spit in her direction. “She was a perfectly fine girl until you came along. Her and her husband, they’ve been through enough. Can’t even have a child. Don’t you know how upsetting that is? A barren house is a woman’s worst nightmare,” she continued on. </p><p>It seemed like she had been mustering up her anger for weeks. Far from finished, she continued, “They don’t need no queer messing it up for ‘em. I have half the mind to call the damned police if you keep this up. Go back to that fag of a husband you have. Better yet, just leave this neighborhood. Nobody wants ya here, especially with children running afoot. Don’t want ‘em catching what you’ve got.” Mrs.Smith almost seemed proud as she said this. She stood straighter, gained a little smirk, and crossed her arms. </p><p>Renee lowered her head, shoved her hands into her pockets, and tried her best to ignore the onslaught. She wanted to argue and yell back, but not when the threat of the police getting involved loomed over head. Instead, she argued back in her head. </p><p>God, Renee hated Georgia. </p><p>Elliot tried his best to console her. He hugged her and stroked her hair despite her struggling to get away like a cat being forced to be held. “Oh, it’ll be alright, Renee,” he said softly despite her struggles. “There are plenty of fish in the sea. Plenty more housefishes, if you get what I mean. I’m sure you’ll find one soon,” he told her. Even though he had plenty more to say, he abruptly stopped to let out a cry of pain because Renee had elbowed him in the stomach. She didn’t need this. She was fine. She’d find someone else, preferably not another housewife, even if her heart didn’t want to. </p><p>Was Renee upset? Sure, she was upset. Had she cried? Sure, she’d cried a little. </p><p>... </p><p>Okay, maybe more than a little. </p><p>But Natalie was a lost cause. This Renee knew. Actually, she should of known that from the start. Once a housewife, always a housewife. They were never going to choose her over their husband; there was no way. She was a fool to think otherwise. Natalie did not want her, even though Renee wanted her. It was just that simple, and it was just something she would have to learn to live with, whether she liked it or not. </p><p>So on this particular warm summer morning, Renee did not expect to see Natalie stomping over to her house only a few minutes after the Buick had left for work.</p><p>Slowly making her way to the door, still groggy because she had woken up only an hour ago and was working through her first cup of coffee, she frankly didn’t know what to expect. Pathfinder had come to join her now, eager to greet the new guest. He sat beside her and looked up at her, head tilted because he didn’t know why she hadn’t opened the door yet. </p><p>“This isn’t going to be fun,” Renee told the dog simply. He further tilted his head at that statement, making her shake her head and finally open the door with a sigh. </p><p>Natalie stood there, eyebrows furrowed together and a frown on her face. She was in a usual day dress, a light blue this time, with an apron tied hastily around it. She carried no gifts this time; the only thing she held was a leather backed Bible, edges scuffed and pages bookmarked. </p><p>“Oh fuck,” Renee muttered under her breath. The Bible was enough to tell her this wasn’t going to go well. She hated that a small part of her had hoped Natalie had come to reassure her, to tell her that everything was alright, that she wanted her over her husband. She sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose. It was too early for this. </p><p>God. Renee was a fool. </p><p>These three things happened at once. Natalie moved past her into the house without saying a word. Pathfinder followed after her, jumping and pawing at her to pick her up. Finally, Renee closed the door and turned to face the blonde. She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows. Her expression was rather deadpanned. </p><p>“Well?” Renee began. </p><p>“It’s wrong,” Natalie pronounced. She waved the Bible at her, furiously tapping it with her finger. “It says so right here! It is wrong! What you are doing is wrong! What we did? It was wrong! <em>Il est faux!</em>” </p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Renee replied, frowning. She rolled her eyes now. She doesn’t feel bad for playing with Natalie, not really. In her mind, she has every right to it. She was the one who pushed her away, hasn’t talked to her for a week, and is now coming into her house to tell her how wrong and sinful she is. Renee is tired of it. </p><p>“<em>Qoui? Qoui!</em>” Natalie shouted. She moved closer to Renee and pointed an accusing finger at her. Her eyebrows were knitted together, and she was gritting her teeth. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Renee! Don’t act stupid!” </p><p>“Really, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Care to explain?” Renee asked again, her frown beginning to grow into a smirk. “And please, for the love of God, don’t speak any more French.” </p><p>“<em>Pourqoui?</em> Why shouldn’t I speak French? I can speak whatever I want! <em>Je peux parler français si je veux!</em>” </p><p>Renee tried her best to fake a sigh, though her lips were still curled upward. “Because frankly, it’s really cute, and I don’t think I could resist kissing you again.” </p><p>“Aha! So you admit that you kissed me!” Natalie exclaimed, now wagging her finger at the other woman. She looked very proud of herself. “See you know exactly what you- wait, did you just say you were going to kiss me again?!” Her eyes widened, and her hand went to cover her mouth. Her eyebrows shot up, surprise written across her face. “Renee, you didn’t! <em>Vous n’avez pas simplement dit ça!</em>” </p><p>Renee just shrugged. “I said what I said.” </p><p>Natalie stared her down for a few moments, intensely looking over her. Renee just stared back, slightly raising an eyebrow. She was ready for this to be over so she could go back to moping around and reading. </p><p>“It’s wrong and unnatural. You know that,” Natalie finally repeated again, drawing her hands together. She straightened out her back now, trying her hardest to appear bigger and prouder. An animal in a corner that it certainly didn’t want to be in, Renee mused. “You aren’t supposed to feel this way. I am not supposed to feel this way.” </p><p>That caught Renee’s attention. Had she heard Natalie correctly? She now looked at the blonde with a new interest. Slowly, she moved a little closer. “Say that again,” the older woman insisted. She was still uncertain, but a little hope began to bud in her chest. </p><p>“<em>Qoui?</em> What part? I thought I made myself very clear.” </p><p>“Don’t play dumb,” Renee frowned at her, “You know exactly what I mean.” </p><p>Natalie paused now. Again, she looked at her with that intense gaze. She was being cautious, making sure she wasn’t about to step into a trap. For a moment, she opened her mouth as if to speak, but promptly closed it. She was deep in thought, that much was obvious. </p><p>“Listen,” Renee said, walking over to stand in front of the blonde. This was a conversation she has had to have before. “I know it feels wrong, but that’s because you’ve been taught that. Though, Nat, I promise it isn’t,” she carefully explained. She kept her gaze on Natalie’s eyes. “It is natural. There is nothing wrong with it. In fact, I’ve never felt something more right when I am with other woman. If it was so unnatural, I don’t think it would feel so right,” Renee told her. “I’m just lucky that I haven’t had to be with men to find that out. I knew I didn’t like them since I was young, and fortunately, I had Elliot. Elliot is the same way, you know. He likes men-“ </p><p>“Wait, he is-“ Natalie began, but Renee raising a hand over her mouth stopped her. The blonde closed her mouth again, letting the older woman continue. </p><p>“Look, all I’m saying is it’s okay. It’s okay to want to be with other women. It’s normal, despite what you’ve been lead to believe,” Renee finally said. “And I’m not going to let someone else dictate how I feel. I’m going to live my life how I want, and if it includes liking other women, that’s what it includes. I’m not doing something I don’t want to do,” she told her. Her tone then fell much deeper as she muttered, “Fuck whatever anyone else says.” </p><p>Natalie was silent. She was thinking through the other’s words. Her gaze had fallen in thought, now looking at the floor now. Her fingers tapped rhythmically against the cover of that Bible without much thought. All Renee could do was wait. </p><p>Finally, after what seemed like decades, Natalie quietly spoke: “Okay.” </p><p>“Okay...? Nothing else?” Renee quickly asked back. It wasn’t like the blonde to give such a simple reply; she was usually rather wordy. Not that Renee minded, but it was odd. “Is that all you have to say?” </p><p>The blonde nodded again, albeit a little slowly. “Yes, it’s all I have to say,” she insisted. “I... I get it.” </p><p>“You... get it?” </p><p>“<em>Oui.</em> I get it.” </p><p>“Okay...” Renee slowly spoke, now nodding her head. She rubbed her neck rather sheepishly for a moment. “I was expecting... a little more, but I guess that’s alright.” </p><p>They fell silent for a few moments. Only this time, it seemed to drag on for centuries. The only noise was Natalie’s fingers tapping against the damn Bible. As the silence continued to build up, they slowly risked looking in each other’s eyes again. Natalie smiled at her when their eyes made contact again, and it made Renee’s cheeks begin to burn. </p><p>God, this silence was killing Renee. She hated silence; it let her thoughts get to loud and gave her too much time to think about things, especially reckless things. She couldn’t do it for much longer. </p><p>Apparently, though, it had gone on for just long enough for her to make a reckless decision. </p><p>“Nat?” She finally asked, breaking that dreaded silence. </p><p>“Hm?” </p><p>“Are you done?” </p><p>“<em>Oui</em>, I think so,” Natalie slowly answered with a short nod. </p><p>“Then do you want me to kiss you again?” </p><p>“Please.” </p><p>Before Renee could even consider Natalie’s response to her question, the blonde’s lips were already on hers. Her hands had went to cradle the older woman’s face, the Bible being dropped, without a single care in the world, to the floor with a loud thud.</p><p>Renee’s own hands frantically found and rested the other’s hips. It was a sweet kiss, soft and compassionate, that had them both smiling when they broke apart. However, Renee barely had time to catch her breath before the blonde was kissing her again, this time much more desperate and feverish. The blonde’s hands had fallen now, fingers curling and tugging on the hem of Renee’s button down shirt.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey y’all! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Halfway through it now :’^) Smut MAYBE in the next chapter, but it’s very up in the air. I’m not very good at writing it, haha. Anyway, comments and kudos are always appreciated and loved! Thank you all for all of the ones already! They mean the world to me!! </p><p>Atlanta Tidbits, as I usually do:<br/>- Grant Park is still where the zoo is, and it’s an absolutely fabulous zoo. I love it! They are one of the four zoos to have giant pandas which is pretty amazing! The neighborhood there is also adorable, particularly with the sun bursts on the porch to show off their house number. It’s a very lovely part of Atlanta!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. IV. She incorrigibly gave herself over to idle and lascivious pleasures</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: N/A</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They’re not entirely sure how they made it to Renee’s bedroom. Between desperate kisses on any and all exposed skin and stumbling into each other as they tried to be as close as possible, they somehow did. </p><p>Renee had Natalie pressed against the edge of the bed. The apron that had been tied around her waist alongside the cardigan she usually wore had already been thrown to the side, and now she was working on the buttons on her dress. </p><p>Natalie was smiley and giggly. Her hands were carefully undoing Renee’s bun, wanting to see it fall down her shoulders and hopefully mess with it when she got the chance. She’d thought about it before, running her hands through it and twirling it around her fingertips, but she never thought it would actually happen. She never thought she could allow herself or be allowed to, and yet here she was. </p><p>“How the hell do you get these buttons undone?” Renee muttered, still struggling with them. She’d only managed to get one undone, and her fingers were quickly trying to get to the next. </p><p>Natalie giggled, grabbing her hands and stopping them. “Slower, ma chéri,” she mumbled, giving her a soft smile. “Have a little patience. They aren’t going to come undone if you keep trying like that.” She guided the other woman’s hands along, carefully undoing one as if to show her. “See? Only three more to go.” </p><p>“I’m out of patience. I’ve been waiting way too long to do this.” </p><p>“You’re reminding me of Peter. He’s just as antsy as you, though he’s even worse.” </p><p>“Don’t even think of comparing me to him,” Renee grumbled. With Natalie’s instruction, she had already managed to get two more buttons undone. “Besides, I’m going to give you a hell of a lot better time than he could ever dream of. I know how men are, and I doubt he is any different.” Her words were cold. Renee hated that man. </p><p>“Oh? Well I sure hope so,” Natalie purred, her hands trailing up Renee’s sides. She didn’t want to think about him right now; in fact, she didn’t want to think about him again. All she wanted to think about Renee and kissing her some more. </p><p>However, something dawned upon her as the skirmisher finished the last button. It was rarely something she thought about because she kept it so well hidden. Her smile quickly faded, and her eyes went wide. She began to mumble something out, trying frantically to find the words in her throat, but Renee was already pulling the dress over her head. </p><p>“Renee, wait,” she managed to croak out, her voice frightened. As the clothing was finally pulled off her, she promptly turned away from her. As much as she tried to calm herself, there wasn’t much she could do. Already down to her bra and underwear, she was completely vulnerable. Her usual safety amongst her clothes was gone, and there was no getting it back. A slight tremor ran through her body now. “Please don’t look. Please. I know it’s ugly, but there isn’t anything that I can do. Please don’t say anything or stare, I just... I’m sorry, I should of told you before,” Natalie pleaded. Now she was overwhelmed with words; they dripped out of her mouth like a leaky faucet. </p><p>(She barely remembered it happening. One moment, she was playing outside in the rain with her father’s dogs in France. She was throwing sticks for them to chase after and laughing as they happily brought them back. Then, the rolling boom of thunder up ahead had made her paused, looking up at the sky. She’d never liked loud noises, and this was no exception. She began to retreat, but something had struck her. In the next moment, she was on the ground, screaming and seizing in pain. The dogs howled with her, causing enough alarm to get her father’s attention. How old was she then? Ten or eleven, Natalie had figured. She couldn’t remember.) </p><p>It was quiet for a moment. Natalie stared down at the sheets on the bed, feeling tears beginning to form in her eyes. Her hands clenched into fists, digging her fingernails into the skin. How foolish she had been to think it would be okay, that Renee would like her despite this. She didn’t deserve this, not with the way she looked. Peter had convinced her of such; after all, who could ever love a scarred girl? </p><p>“Hey, Nat,” Renee quietly spoke up again, an arm going to touch her shoulder. It was hesitant at first, but her palm soon rested flat against the bare skin. “You’re okay. Let me see.” </p><p>“Non, I can’t let you,” she muttered out. Her voice was weaker than she expected it to be. “You... you aren’t going to like me after you see it, and I... I don’t. I don’t want you to hate me.”</p><p>“That’s not true,” Renee insisted. She moved a little closer, her other hand going to rest on the other shoulder. Her grasp was reluctant still, and thankfully she didn’t dare push for more. “What is it? Can you tell me?” </p><p>Taking a shaky breath, Natalie gulped. “It’s... well, it’s a scar.” She surprised herself in being able to finally mumble it out. Besides Peter, no one else knew. </p><p>(Natalie had grown up sheltered in France, living out in the countryside. Since it was mainly them and their dogs, Natalie never really had to cover it up. No one saw, and in turn, no one made a comment. If someone came over or passed through, they never said anything, only giving lingering, concerned looks. She had been young then and didn’t think much of it, but she knows now. This changed, of course, when they came to America.) </p><p>“A scar?” </p><p>She nodded, even though Renee couldn’t really see. “Oui, it... is,” she reasserted. It was a hard topic to broach; after all, not many people were struck by lightening and survived. It was better to hide it and hide it Natalie did. </p><p>(The first time she went out in public with it had turned out to be her last.)</p><p>“Are you... okay with me touching you? I’m not going to do anything drastic.” </p><p>That was the last question she thought she would be asked. She didn’t really know what to expect from the other woman, but even then, Natalie nodded. </p><p>Slowly, Natalie felt arms wrap around her waist. She leaned a little into the touch, exhaling a shaky breath. It was a comfort, even now. She felt Renee’s head rest on her shoulder, her breath tickling her ear. Despite her fear, she let out a weak giggle. </p><p>“Are you standing on your tippy toes?” She asked quietly, distracted from the stress for a moment. The thought was rather amusing, and it helped ease some of the tension. </p><p>A quiet grumble came from the older woman, and Natalie felt Renee’s nose nuzzle into her neck. “Yes, and don’t remind me,” Renee replied, trying her best to sound serious but a chuckle broke through. “Can you try something for me?” she asked.  Feeling the blonde nod, a smile came across the other’s face and she continued. “If I can’t see it, can you try to show me where?” </p><p>“Like... You want me to move your hands?” </p><p>“Yup,” Renee answered. “If you’re okay with that, it is.” </p><p>“Oui, I’m...okay with it,” Natalie trailed off. Her words were slow. </p><p>“You seem a little hesitant. You sure?” </p><p>The blonde was quiet for a moment, mulling over her thoughts. “No... strings attached?” Natalie carefully asked. </p><p>“No, none at all,” Renee plainly replied. She pressed a quick butterfly kiss to the other’s neck, getting another giggle out of the other woman. That was a good sign. “If you still don’t want to show me after, then that’s perfectly okay. You can put your dress back on, and we can do something else instead. This is about me making you feel good, remember? And if it isn’t, then I don’t want to do it, either.” </p><p>“And... eyes closed?” </p><p>“Eyes closed. Now I can’t see a thing.” </p><p>“Okay,” Natalie replied simply. She was reassured now, willing to work with the other. Her curiosity, too, had gotten the better of her. </p><p>“Okay?” </p><p>“Oui, I’m okay. I’ll do it.” </p><p>“Alright, then I’m ready whenever you are, Nat,” Renee replied. Her arms became looser around her waist. “And you can stop whenever you want. You don’t even have to show me all of it.” </p><p>Natalie nodded, and taking one of the other’s hand in her own, she guided it along her body. She first let Renee’s palms trace over her left arm, running it almost fully down. The scar was drawn across her skin there, spread out and marking claim on the skin. Drawing it back up to her shoulder, she softly directed it her chest, only a little past her collarbone. It had snuck its way there, but not quite too far. More like a root of a tree than anything else. Her hand was then moved back up to her shoulder, and then it moved to her neck. Here, the scar was the most alive, dancing and curling across her skin in its fern like pattern. </p><p>She felt light fingertips tickle her neck, making her giggle again. “Stop it, Renee,” she ordered through her giggles. </p><p>“Sorry, couldn’t help it,” the other woman admitted. Natalie could practically feel the grin on her face. </p><p>Angling her neck and moving the other’s hand just a little closer, she was able to press a kiss to the top of Renee’s hand. “Tu es pardonné, ma chérie,” she crooned against the skin. If that was the worst Renee did, then she was fine. Natalie then returned it to her neck before slowly bringing it up to her cheek. She grimaced, a frown growing on her face. Here, it seemed to branch out the most. It was spread out along her cheek, reaching up towards her eye. This was where she hated it the most. It was in such a visible place, one where she could barely hide it. If makeup didn’t exist, she wasn’t sure what else she’d do. As if to comfort herself, she pressed Renee’s hand against her cheek, resting her face there. </p><p>The older woman could pick up on the sudden change in pressure against her hand. Carefully, she began to move her thumb in a circular motion. “It’s on your cheek?” Renee asked, the surprise evident in her voice. “I’ve never seen it there.” </p><p>“Oui,” Natalie confirmed. “I just use makeup to cover it up. Nobody can tell the difference.” </p><p>“Huh. I never would of known,” Renee murmured. “Thank you for showing me, Nat. I know it’s... hard for you, so I really appreciate it.” The older woman had picked her words gingerly. She then paused. Renee was thinking again. </p><p>Natalie said nothing. She just kept Renee’s hand in place, letting the small action calm her down. Fortunately, it was working. </p><p>“Can you excuse me for a second? I’ll be right back,” Renee broke the silence a minute later. “You can put your dress back on if you want or get my sheets to go around you.” Without another word, the older woman drew back from the blonde, and she stepped out of the room. </p><p>Finally, Natalie turned back to face an empty room. That had been... new, but it had been welcomed. She tilted her head as she considered the latest events. Peter had been so different; he had pretended that he didn’t notice but continued to avoid looking at it the entire time. Her husband regarded it almost like an eraser smudge on a paper, a mistake you can’t fully erase and just have to learn to live with. Renee, however, acknowledged it. She didn’t prod or demand; she let the Frenchwoman control the pace, only going where Renee was invited. Natalie had been in control for once, and it brought a sense of relief she didn’t know she needed. </p><p>(She rarely ever was allowed that with Peter. He was in control, and there was nothing Natalie could do about it.) </p><p>The blonde sat down on the bed, slowly dragging the covers to drape over her small frame. She brought the sheets up to her nose, letting the smell calm her. It smelt of Renee, and it helped even more to put her at ease. A fond smile was growing on her face, but a quiet tapping at the door brought her from her thoughts. She invited back Renee in. </p><p>The raven haired woman looked no different. Her shirt was still half undone, exposing her bra underneath. Her hair was down and slightly ruffled. However, she carried two things. One was a soft smile on her face, something reserved for Natalie and Natalie alone. The other was a dark wash cloth in one hand, a few droplets still dripping to the floor.</p><p>“Hey, Nat,” she greeted, slowly closing the door behind her. Her smile grew as she looked at her, almost becoming lopsided. The sight of Natalie, having grown relaxed and comfortable, obviously made her happy, and she was struggling to keep that hidden. She raised the wash cloth a little. “Will you let me take off your makeup?” </p><p>Natalie began to shrink back, pulling the covers around her. That meant Renee would see it. That was much different than feeling. “I-I don’t know, Renee,” she finally admitted. </p><p>“That’s okay,” Renee said with a nod. Her smile didn’t falter. “Will you do it with me then? Guide my hand like you did before? Is that better?” </p><p>Yes, that was better. Natalie could stop her if she needed, especially if Renee retracted back in disgust. She nodded and beckoned the other woman back over. </p><p>Crouching down beside her, Renee presented her hand to the blonde. With some hesitation, Natalie rested hers atop the other’s and slowly brought it back up to her cheek. She looked Renee in the eye, and Renee stared right back. </p><p>“You okay?” Renee checked again. </p><p>Natalie nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay.” </p><p>“Whenever you’re ready, then.” </p><p>Slowly, Natalie complied. She softly pressed the Renee’s hand against her cheek and began to take the makeup away. It slipped off easily. However, as the seconds passed, Natalie lightly tapped Renee’s hand to let her know she was letting go and placed her hand in her lap. She let her eyes flutter close, and she exhaled through her nose. </p><p>Natalie was ready to trust Renee. </p><p>Renee’s smile only grew, and with a few more careful strokes, the makeup was washed away. The older woman drew her hand back and simply placed the wash cloth against her knee. She didn’t hesitate; she knew better than that. Renee gave a low whistle and said, “God, I didn’t know a woman could be prettier without makeup, but you sure are.” </p><p>Opening her eyes, Natalie giggled at her. A bashful smile was on her face, and her cheeks were warm. “Stop it, Renee. You don’t mean that.” </p><p>“What?” Renee exclaimed with an exaggerated gasp. The older woman usually wasn’t one for theatrics, often choosing the serious path; however, she wanted to keep the atmosphere airy and light. She clutched at her heart before giving the other woman a wink. “Of course I do. I do not believe I’ve seen a prettier woman on the east coast. Hell, haven’t seen a prettier woman in all of the United States of America. You know, the land of the free and all that shit,” she grinned, “You know the one?” </p><p>Natalie giggled again, shaking her head. “Oui, I know that one.” </p><p>“See, I knew you would,” Renee replied, taking one of the other woman’s hands in her own. Her eyes grew fond with adoration. “You’re really beautiful, Natalie. If anyone tells you otherwise, I’ll kick their face in.” </p><p>“S'il te plaît, don’t do that!” Natalie exclaimed. She could feel her chest growing tighter. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t want you thrown in jail.” </p><p>“What can I say? I’ve gotta protect my girl’s honor,” Renee pointed out. She brought that hand she was holding back up to her lips to kiss before setting it back down. “Is it wrong that I want to kiss you right now?” she asked without a single drop of shame. </p><p>Giving her one last final smile, Natalie pressed her lips to Renee’s instead of saying an answer. </p><p>*** </p><p>It is in that moment that both women realized one thing about themselves. These two revelations come in no particular order. They are: </p><p>Most importantly, and this is incredibly important, Renee loves Natalie. She loves her like the sea loves the moon; fierce and compassionate, needing her just as much as Natalie needs Renee. She smooths out sharp edges, dulls the blade that she holds  fiercely against the world, and reminds her to be gentle. She’s shown her that this world is worth loving, even if it is hard at times. Most importantly, and this is incredibly important, so much so that you cannot forget it, Renee loves Natalie.</p><p>Most importantly, and this too is incredibly important, Natalie loves Renee. She loves her like the plant loves the sun, the bird loves the air, and the fish loves the stream; full of care and a special kind of grace, needing her just as much as Renee needs Natalie. She reminds her that she is still loved in a world that feels so alone since her father died, that she is allowed and deserves to have nice things, that love is real, alive, and something worth seeking. She’s shown Natalie that she can go about this world with that special kindness she has and not always get hurt. Most importantly, and this is in incredibly important, so much so that you cannot dare forget it, Natalie loves Renee. </p><p>Neither of the women say this though. It sits on their tongues, is seen through their eyes, and is felt through the touches they give each other. It will be said at some point, surely, but not today. </p><p>It just needs to be mentioned now. </p><p>*** </p><p>Renee carefully thumbed through the pages of her book, trying to find where she had lost her place. Her eyes skimmed over the familiar words, searching for the foreign. Natalie was resting her head against Renee’s chest, fast asleep. Her arms were loosely around the other woman’s waist, and their legs were still slightly tangled underneath the sheets. Once the older woman had found her place, she let one hand fall to run through Natalie’s short hair. </p><p>She tried her hardest to focus on the words; it was A Room of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf. It was an important read, no doubt, but it was hard to read when she was just so unbelievably happy. It was stark and brash, blossoming her chest and running through the rest of her limbs. Even as she read the struggles of the woman writer in their regulated society, Renee couldn’t keep that smile off her face. </p><p>Though, with any strong emotion, especially one as fragile as that sheer joy, there always came doubt creeping upon it. </p><p>Renee had been left before. She had been the second choice for the housewife before, and there was no telling that Natalie would be much different. The blonde was sweet, sweet as a ripe Georgia peach, but that meant nothing when society called. Natalie could say anything and do anything she wanted with Renee, whisper sweet nothings and kiss her till the cows came home, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t come when called by Peter. Like prized bitches, men trained their wives through the hand that they fed them with and expected litters of pups to be raised the same way. Tied up to a fence post or kept in their lot, they couldn’t get out. Who could blame women for staying when they couldn’t get jobs on their own and couldn’t support themselves on the ones that existed? </p><p>Renee was lucky in that regard, and she knew it. Elliot had been fortunate to garner a high paying job, and he had tucked Renee under his wing with a vow of marriage. He cared for her deeply, but it was nothing more than sibling love. Elliot’s brothers had been shipped off to war, and none of them came back. Renee was all he had, and Renee him, so they stuck together like glue. They had always known they were different growing up and became close over that fact. Birds of a feather stuck together, after all. </p><p>So when Elliot was caught kissing a boy behind the school by a group of older kids, Renee punched their faces in with all her might. She knocked a few pairs of teeth out and at least two kids had a broken nose, but she was doing what she found to be natural: protecting her brother. She was suspended, but in her mind, it was all worth it. </p><p>And when she confessed to him that she wanted nothing more than to hold a girl’s hand and take her to the movies like a boy does, he grabbed and hugged her. His face was alight with joy, and it rubbed off on her. Oh, they cried and sobbed out of that sheer joy on that day. That’s when they knew they’d have each other to rely on, and it was much later when they realized that marriage helped achieve that. A perfectly nice couple on the outside (beside Renee’s way of dressing) and able to love who they wanted on the inside. How fortunate they had been to have been placed beside one another. </p><p>Because really, to be with someone who’s like you in a world that is so dreadfully isolating is a comfort unlike any else. </p><p>Natalie stirred beside her for a moment, shifting closer and nuzzling her face into Renee’s bare skin. A pleasant sigh escaped her lips as she settled peacefully back to sleep. </p><p>Renee looked down at her. God, she could feel her lips curling into a smile already. Her hand still ran through the blonde’s short hair, but the other had placed to book down. Now her other hand rest on one of Natalie’s arms still loosely around her waist. It was the one where the scar ran along it, leaving behind that intricate, earthy pattern. </p><p>Renee hated it, but as the older woman looked at her, she could feel that tiny bubble of hope in her chest. Even with doubts, there was always that little bit of hope that rested there. It was up to you to acknowledge it or not, let it grow or burn it, hold it carefully or let it fall. Renee was not a hopeful person; the world had taught her not to be. She looked at risks and possibilities like a cat eyeing water, and it certainly showed. </p><p>But when she saw that sleepy smile spread absentmindedly across Natalie’s lips as she slept, Renee hoped. Oh god, did she hope. </p><p>A few loud footsteps down the hallway made her look up. She knew exactly who they belonged to, even before that obnoxious voice began to speak. She began to pull the sheets and covers over them. </p><p>“Elliot, don’t. Be quiet-“ she began to call, but it was too late. </p><p>“Renee Hope Witt, what the hell is a Bible doing in this house?” Elliot pronounced rather loudly, opening the door to Renee’s room. He was still in his suit from work, obviously just now getting home, and held that Bible in his hands. He looked ready to tease and joke with her about how this holy object had ended up in a house so unholy, but he froze when he saw the scene in the bed. </p><p>Again, the Bible fell to the floor with a loud thud. Poor thing. </p><p>She mouthed “Shut up” at him, giving him one of her deadly glares. He raised his hands defensively at that, but he didn’t utter another word. Renee then averted her attention to the woman who was still fast asleep on top of her. Somehow, her idiot of a husband hadn’t woken up Natalie; it really was a miracle in and of itself. </p><p>“Can’t you learn to knock?” she finally stage-whispered to Elliot after a few moments passed. Her gaze was not as harsh now, but Elliot knew he needed to tread lightly. He did not need to get on his wife’s bad side. Lord knows he was already on it too much. </p><p>“I’m sorry, okay? But I just didn’t expect,” he motioned to the sleeping blonde, “her to be here. I mean, I’m thankful that she is because you were starting to get a little too mopey.” He winced as another glare was shot his way, but he put back on his usual charming expression. He could poke and prod his wife unlike anyone else and come out unscathed. “But anyway! So it’s fixed, yeah? You guys made up?” </p><p>“Did a little more than just make up,” she said, rolling her eyes. However, looking back down to Natalie made Renee eyes soften. A small smile creeped onto her face. “But, yeah. We’re alright.” </p><p>“That’s good!” Elliot said a little too loudly again. She looked back up, a scowl on her face, challenging him to talk that loudly again. Up went his hands again, and he tried to look as innocent as possible. “Sorry, sorry. I’m just loud, remember?” he admitted, but that was met with a scoff from his wife. He waved a hand at her just to tell her he wasn’t taking her seriously. “And what about Pissy Pete across the street? Does he know?” </p><p>Renee shook her head. Natalie’s husband had left before she had come over, and he couldn’t be home yet. She knew they had another hour at most. “Shouldn’t,” she finally replied. Her gaze fell, and she could feel her heart sink a little. Their little world inside Renee’s own home was just that; it didn’t expand much more beyond. She’d pushed back the reality of it all in these few hours, but it came and creeped back. </p><p>Elliot was quiet for a moment which always made Renee wary. He never was quiet; he was, frankly, always the loudest. He wasn’t really one to think before he acted, much more tugged around by his own emotions instead of reason, but sometimes he stopped himself. It was never something good when he did, but the older woman could never sit and wait for him to make up his mind. </p><p>“What is it, Elliot?” </p><p>He sighed and shook his head. He rested a hand on his hip and gestured towards the window. They could easily see Natalie’s house across the street. “Who do you think she’ll pick?” he asked. </p><p>There is no hesitation in her words, the topic having already been at the forefront of her mind. “I don’t know,” Renee muttered. She was honest. She really didn’t know. All she did know was what she wanted. </p><p>“I don’t know either,” Elliot murmured back. He was honest. He really didn’t know either. “All I know is I hope it’s you.” </p><p>With another heavy sigh, he placed his hand back on the handle to the door. “You need to go ahead and get her up. Traffic is heavy, but it isn’t that heavy,” he informed her as he pulled on the handle. “He’ll be home soon, and I don’t want him snooping around here for her. I know you like her, Renee, but your safety comes first to me.” </p><p>She nodded. There came that brotherly protectiveness she had come to know, but this time there was truth to it. Renee’s gaze fell back to Natalie as if to give Elliot his answer. Giving his wife another smile, albeit a rather sad one, Elliot walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. </p><p>The room felt rather cold despite it being late in a southern afternoon.</p><p>“Hey Natalie,” Renee softly spoke, gently tapping her on her shoulders. “Hey, Nat,” she repeated, now taking a hand and rubbing it along her back. She never would of taken the blonde as a deep sleeper. “Time to wake up, baby.” </p><p>There was a quiet groan, and Natalie slowly opened her eyes. She wiped her eyes and then blinked at the other woman a few times before the events from before hit her. One of her signature smiles appeared on her face. Not hesitating, she unraveled her arms from the older woman’s torso and let them wrap sloppily around Renee’s neck instead. “Renee,” she quietly crooned, nuzzling her face into the other’s neck. </p><p>“Natalie,” Renee mumbled again. Seeing the other woman so at peace and comfortable made her heart ache. A smile was already breaking across her usually hard features. “You’re gonna have to get up, baby. Peter will be home soon. Elliot already is, so you know Peter isn’t far behind.” </p><p>“Je ne suis pas encore prêt à vous quitter,” Natalie mumbled into the other’s neck before pressing a kiss there. “Five more minutes, s’il te plaît ?” </p><p>An airy chuckle escaped Renee’s lips. “Okay,” she agreed, wrapping her arms around the other’s back. “Five more minutes then.” </p><p>*** </p><p>Renee nearly convinced herself it was a dream. When she saw Natalie the next day bouncing back over to her house, she nearly couldn’t believe it. Something told her the blonde was just coming over to berate her on the wrongness again or something worse. It was hard to believe what had happened. It really was. </p><p>But Natalie practically leaping back into her arms when the door opened was enough to tell Renee that it, in fact, had been really, really real.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So... this is my absolute favorite scene from this fic and probably my favorite scene I’ve ever written for darksparks in particular. </p><p>If you aren’t familiar with the 1950s, there was this instated desperation for people to fit in. Conformity and normalcy was rampant and heavily encouraged as the world was slowly recovering after a devastating world war. Anything outside of that would ultimately be shunned. This is what makes Natalie such an interesting character to write into this AU because conformity is certainly not her thing which is awesome! Her scar, in particular, is very important to her character and her relationship that she builds with Renee through this scene alone. I mention it again in later chapters, but hopefully you’ve picked up as to why this is important and why Renee’s reaction is also very important. </p><p>Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I liked writing it! Comments mean the world to me, and I love each one! I decided to skip on smut ‘cause I can’t write it to save my life, and I am usually a little more inclined to writing chaste affections.<br/>The, uh, next chapter is incredibly long by the way. Super long. I also decided to add another chapter because I wanted to write a chapter of fluff.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. V. You don’t owe me anything, but give me something anyway.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: Natalie being pulled up by force by Peter</p>
<p>(Peter is a fucking little bitch and I fucking hate him)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The married couple, the Witts, who lived in their house and the one housewife who lived there part time were sat in the living room, Renee and Natalie to the couch and Elliot to a single seater. Pathfinder was resting on the carpet only a few feet away, ears still cocked as he listened to his three most favorite people. Their laughter and chatter filled up the house, and the soft jazz that hummed throughout the room took up the rest of the silence. There was some cause for celebration amongst them. It was the day after Natalie’s birthday, and as much as she had stressed and stressed that neither of them needed to do anything, she still was greeted with a cake on the kitchen counter and a few boxes sitting in the living room. </p>
<p>“Go on ahead, open it,” Renee suggested, giving Natalie a little nudge with her elbow. This small touch would of only lingered for a moment too long only a few weeks prior, the fear of what it meant keeping it at away, but now it stayed there. Soon, she was leaning against her lover, head rested on her shoulder and looking up at the blonde’s face with that lovestruck expression reserved solely for her. A soft smile, something many people didn’t think Renee capable of, and that gleam of adoration in her eyes was presented on her usually stoic face. Natalie had yet to notice, but Elliot, fortunately, had; a quick flash of his camera, a well loved Kodak Brownie 127, had Renee pulling back in surprise. A glare was shot his direction, but he just smiled at his wife and shrugged. </p>
<p>“Oh, Renee, tu n’aurais pas dû!” Natalie exclaimed , now taking the opportunity to fall back into her touch. Rarely were these moments of them together still and withdrawn; as soon as Natalie walked through Renee’s door, she was by the older woman’s side. Hands were held, hugs were plentiful, and there were kisses abound. The blonde now leaned back against Renee, which the other woman wasn’t prepared for at first, but soon an arm went around her, pulling her close. Another flash. </p>
<p>“Elliot, I swear to god, if you don’t stop taking pictures, I’m going to throw the camera out the window,” Renee warned, shooting him another glare. Glares and annoyed banter were also plentiful in this house. “You literally don’t have to take a picture every time one of us breaths.” </p>
<p>He now frowned at her. “‘Of course I do! Especially when you’re looking at her like that,” he gestured his camera towards him both. Renee’s face became as bright as a ripe strawberry, and Natalie was giggling, a hand drawn up to her mouth to hide her giggles. “It’d be a shame for me not to take a picture. In fact,” he waved the camera at them now, “It’d be a sin! A sin, I tell you!” </p>
<p>“Looking at me how?” Natalie crooned, turning a little so she could look at Renee. There was a playful smile on her face, and she just batted her eyelashes at her. Natalie was playing with her now, being much too coy, and it only put the other woman in more hot water. All Renee could do was stare back, still sputtering and at a loss of words, much too afraid to admit she’d even done it. Amused, another giggle escaped the blonde’s lips and let a hand go up to touch the others cheek before giving her a soft kiss on the lips. It was short but plenty sweet. </p>
<p>(It had only been three weeks now, but how easy it was for Natalie to cover the other woman in affection was surprising. It came naturally ever since that first kiss in her hallway, and she would grow in sureness every time she did. How right it felt too. There was nothing unnatural about the care and love she held for Renee, this Natalie knew for sure.) </p>
<p>This time, there came a sharp whistle and yet another flash. Elliot had a shit eating grin on his face as he watched the two women now. “You’ll thank me later, ladies,” he told them once they had parted, now waving the developing film in his hands. </p>
<p>Renee glared at Elliot again, which had no real damage because even now a silly smile was on her face, while Natalie pulled back. A light pink was painted on the blonde’s own cheeks to match her own smile, and she settled back into her spot in Renee’s side, hands now returning to rest on the top of the gift box in front of her. </p>
<p>“Just open it, Nat,” Renee offered again, letting her arm go back around the other woman. “I’m quite certain you’re going to like it.” </p>
<p>“You really didn’t have to go to all the trouble, ma chéri,” Natalie repeated again, shedding another glance over to her lover. “Seriously, I don’t need this.”</p>
<p>“Why are you thanking her?” Elliot complained, shaking his head. “I’m the one who makes the money in this household, just so you two remember,” he explained, puffing out his chest and bringing his hands to his hips. </p>
<p>Natalie gave him a smile. “Merci, mon petit chou,” she thanked him, suppressing her urge to giggle. Really, it was quite foreign to her to see someone share his finances so willingly with his wife; Peter kept all their money in one bank account, besides a small one left over from Papa that only the blonde had access to, and Natalie was dished out an allowance once a week from that. Anything she wanted, she had to ask him for, and depending on his mood, it could be somewhat easy to get what she needed. She much preferred this as opposed to the Price way of doing it, but she knew this was never something Peter would jump for. She didn’t understand finances, he would tell her, the numbers would go over your head. </p>
<p>Renee, on the other hand, rolled her eyes. “It really wasn’t anything expensive. Just a gift that,” she tilted her head as she tried to find the right words, “appeared at the right moment. You’ll see what I mean when you open it.” </p>
<p>Natalie nodded, her own curiosity growing, and carefully she began to take off the lid.  She’d only gotten it off an inch before a tiny paw shot out from underneath and a quiet mewl came from within. It looked like whoever was inside was also wanting the blonde too open it too. </p>
<p>She looked up to Renee again, her entire face lighting up. “Renee, you didn’t!” she exclaimed, now quickly pulling off the lid. </p>
<p>“We didn’t,” Elliot corrected her, again giving them another wide grin, but even now he was on the edge of his seat. His camera was aimed and ready. </p>
<p>Renee rolled her eyes at her husband again, but her attention still remained on that box. A quiet “Shut up, Elliot” rolled off her tongue, but it held no bite; even she was focused on that box and, most importantly, Natalie’s own reaction. </p>
<p>Carefully, as if she was messing with the wires of a device, the blonde lifted the creature of the box. It really was a tiny, tiny thing with wiry legs, a potbelly, trembling whiskers, and wide blue eyes. Snow white fur met chestnut colored points on his paws, tail, ears, and face, and a tiny blue collar with an even tinier bell jingled around his neck. It was, indeed, a scrawny kitten, certainly not a fine purebred or born from any champion sires, but that didn’t really matter. In that moment, Natalie had already decided that she loved it with all of her heart. </p>
<p>Another flash of the camera, but this time no one was annoyed. They were too focused on the tiny kitten, that little beast, to care. </p>
<p>“Bonjour, chaton!” Natalie cooed excitedly, now placing him down in her lap. She brought a finger down for him to sniff, which he reluctantly did, before beginning to pet alongside his back. This seemed to be the ticket for he started to warm up to her. He emitted a loud purr, letting his eyes close and move into the touch. He may be the tiniest kitten, but he sure had the loudest purr. “Chaton beau, beau! Quel beau petit homme!” she told him as she continued to pet him. “Mon Dieu! You are absolutely perfect!” </p>
<p>“Like him?” Renee asked, sitting up so she could give Natalie a quick kiss on the cheek. </p>
<p>“Like him?” Natalie repeated, flashing her a smile, before looking back down to the little feline. “Oh, I absolutely love him! I adore him!” she exclaimed, but her tone soon fell. It had dawned upon her then that she couldn’t accept such a gift. Peter didn’t allow animals in the house, and there was no amount of begging that could change that. Believe her, she had tried. Her tone fell. “But, Renee, you know Peter won’t let me-“ </p>
<p>(Natalie does allow herself to imagine not living under Peter’s roof and under Renee’s instead, but only for that moment. It comes and is over like a stone hitting the water, causing ripples but falling still soon afterwards. This is not something she can achieve. At least, not that she knows it yet. That hope is still a seed in her chest, which she is very much aware of, and with a little more hope, strength, and love, which there is plenty of, it is only bound to grow. However, being aware of this scares her.) </p>
<p>“Don’t worry about that,” Elliot answered this time. He had gotten on his knees now, practically crawling over to them now just so he could reach his hand over. “The little guy will be staying with us, but he’s all yours.” </p>
<p>Natalie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She looked back up to Renee who was just smiling at her now. “Really?” she asked, just needing to hear it one more time. </p>
<p>“Really,” Renee repeated for her again. “He’s yours.”</p>
<p>Natalie practically squealed. She picked up the kitten again, just as Elliot had gotten him to sniff his finger, and brought him up to her face. Without a seconds delay, he nuzzled into her cheek, giving another strong purr. He loved Natalie already; that much was obvious. “Si précieux!” she cooed again, giggling a little as he now pawed at her skin. “Wherever did you find such a sweetheart?” </p>
<p>“Now that you can thank Pathfinder for,” Renee said, looking over to the dog in question. He perked up at his name, tail already wagging, and he came running over. Jumping onto the couch, he sniffed a few times at his fantastic find before sitting down beside Natalie. He seemed quite proud, head held high and tail wagging even faster now. “When I was taking him out for a walk, he just wouldn’t let me go past our trash can. No amount of tugging and promise of treats would make him budge, so I looked around to see what it was, figuring it was some food that had spilled out or something,” Renee smiled at her dog as she retold the memory, “But there he was. This tiny little kitten, trying so hard to rip a hole through the plastic. He hadn’t noticed me yet, so I just scooped him up and brought him inside.” </p>
<p>The kitten was now cradled in the blonde’s arms, purring and purring. “ pauvre,” she mumbled quietly, looking down at him with a small frown. “We’ll take good care of you now, oui? No more digging in the garbage for you!” With her new rule, she tapped his little nose with a finger. </p>
<p>“Whatcha think you’re gonna name him, Natalie?” Elliot piped up again. He’d finally been able to pet the kitten now, leaning over Renee’s legs and reaching as far as he arms would let him. “The little guy has got to have a good one.”</p>
<p>She hummed as a response at first, her mind already boring through the countless choices she could choose from for a name. Of course, she had always toyed with the idea of naming a pet, but all possible ideas seemed to leave her as soon as she needed to call upon them. With no other real suggestion in her mind, she let her mind wander instead. The first thing to come to mind was how she needed to make a meatloaf for dinner tonight, which was slowly drawing closer and closer, but Natalie knew for a fact she wasn’t going to name him Meatloaf. </p>
<p>“Need a suggestion?” Elliot asked. </p>
<p>“Non, I think...” Natalie answered and tilted her head. Another thought entered her mind, this time about her excitement for the new dress Elliot had gotten for her, but it wasn’t very useful either. </p>
<p>“Quiet, Elliot,” Renee retorted, shaking her head. “It’s her kitten, remember?” He nodded at that remark now, raising his hands as if to apologize. </p>
<p>There was that book Natalie had been trying to finish that morning. My Inventions, an autobiography about and partially written by Nikola Tesla, had been her recent reading endeavor, and she was so close to the end. The blonde certainly couldn’t name him Invention; no, that was much too long. Though... Nikola, on the other hand, seemed absolutely perfect. A perfect name for a brilliant genius, so it seemed the perfect fit for an already perfect cat. </p>
<p>“I think I’ll name him Nikola,” she spoke, a smile breaking across her face. “Tu aimes ça, chaton?” she asked the kitten now who answered back with a quiet mew. He was looking up at Natalie now, eyes wide and full of adoration for the woman who was holding him. His tail flicked back and forth, and he pawed at her shirt. </p>
<p>“Looks like he does,” Elliot chimed in, almost in awe. His eyes and smile were bright as he ran a single finger through the fur, coaxing out another loud purr from the tiny kitten. “Can... can I hold him?” Elliot asked almost innocently only a few seconds later. It was obvious he just couldn’t wait any longer. “We had a cat when we were younger. It was mom’s, but we all loved that cat. You remember Miss Kitty, don’t you, Renee?” he began to explain. Renee just nodded at his question, making his smile grow. “Such a good cat,” he added almost as an afterthought, though it didn’t really seem to be directed towards anyone in particular. </p>
<p>Natalie was more than happy to oblige, slowly handing the kitten off to Elliot. He held it so gingerly as if he was holding a newborn baby, and when it purred at the new contact, Elliot really looked like he was going to cry. Natalie knew in that moment it’d be a while before she held her kitten again, but she was fine with that. Another thing was on her mind now, and she saw no reason to hesitate. </p>
<p>Now with free hands, the blonde reached over to pick up that new dress she had thought of earlier with one hand while the other found Renee’s. She began to tug on her lover’s hand, trying to will her to move. “Come on, I want to go try this one on,” Natalie batted her eyelashes again, “You’ll come with me, won’t you?” She was having too much fun teasing the other woman. </p>
<p>Despite the blood rushing to the other’s face, Renee cleared her throat again and allowed herself to be pulled off the couch. Despite her embarrassment, she raised an eyebrow at Natalie, but she was already being pulled along towards the hall before she could ask anything. Really, there was no point in protesting; it was better to just let it happen. Once the blonde had set her mind to something, hell nor heaven could stand in her way. </p>
<p>“We’ll only be a few minutes, Elliot!” Natalie yelled before she closed the door to Renee’s room. Even then, she could still hear Elliot yelling back a “Oh, you two just take your time!” through the door. </p>
<p>Now turning on her heels and finding a still confused Renee who stood only a few feet away, she gave her a smile, still as sweet as a ripe Georgia peach, and closed the gap between them. The blonde wrapped her arms around the other in a hug, letting her head rest on the others shoulder. At first the older woman was stiff, affection not always being the easiest thing to come to her, but she soon was returning it. Her arms came to be loosely around the other. Renee was warming up to the idea of affection rather quickly, but there were still times when it caught her off guard. For most of her previous relationships, she had always been the one giving, rarely the one receiving. </p>
<p>“Thank you,” Natalie quietly whispered against the other’s skin, letting her nose nuzzle into the other’s neck. </p>
<p>“Oh, Nat, it really wasn’t anything-“ </p>
<p>“Non, just for... just for everything,” she said. “You’ve been so kind and wonderful to me...” </p>
<p>(Words clung to the cliff edge that had been carved by her sentence, particularly these exact five: more than Peter ever has. She lets them fall instead of pulling them up, turning a blind eye to the truth they may or may not hold. She knows she cannot say this, or suppose, she doesn’t really know how to say it. In actuality, though, it is most likely because she isn’t ready to admit it, not yet anyway. A part of her knows the truth about him, that what he does is not love, but she chooses to ignore it with an intensity unmatched by any other. All she knows is this: Peter is her husband, and she loves him. She does. She does. If she repeats it enough, the mantra is bound to become true.) </p>
<p>A small smile crept up Renee’s face now. Giving Natalie a quick squeeze, she drew back from the hug just to see the other’s face. Hands resting on the other’s hips, she finally replied, “Well, you’re more than welcome, but really, believe me when I say that you are... completely worth it.” </p>
<p>Natalie does not, after all, make it very hard to love her. In fact, Renee would argue it is impossible not to. </p>
<p>(Renee didn’t know this, but that was the first time anyone had ever said Natalie was worth it. Sure, she’d only dated one person, Peter, and had only known the love of one other person, Peter, but that didn’t change the fact that this mattered. She’d never been told she was worth this trouble, having been convinced that there was just so much of it, possibly even too much of it, from her horrible cooking to her insatiable hunger for knowledge to that scar that marked her skin. Natalie had only thought of her own partnership as a burden because that’s all Peter had ever told her. So when Peter nearly forgot her birthday and made up for it with sex, she didn’t think much of it. She shrugged it off, saying he’d just been busy at work. It was, after all, easy to forget. Silly Peter, forgetful Peter, not-to-be-blamed Peter. This was fine, she told herself. This was normal. She still loved him. Yes, Natalie still loved him.) </p>
<p>The blonde, for once in her life, looked away almost bashfully. She bit her lip, obviously beginning to think through rapidly approaching thoughts, but eventually she shook her head. It made the curled ends of her short pageboy haircut bounce. Something had been on her mind and she’d come close to saying it, but what it was, Renee didn’t know. Instead, she offered another smile and held up the dress still in her hands. “Let’s try this on, oui? Help me?” </p>
<p>Renee grinned at her. “Of course,” she agreed. “Buttons or a zipper this time?” </p>
<p>“Buttons,” Natalie chirped, already moving forward. Her hands were tucked behind her back, and she gave the other a playful expression, sticking her tongue out at her lover. She winked. “You signed on for this when you agreed to come with me.” </p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah,” Renee teased back, giving her an over exaggerated huff. Her hands were already working on the buttons of the dress Natalie was in. They were patient and considerate now, carefully tugging buttons out of the cloth. This had become a normal occurrence now, giving the older woman plenty of time to practice. Sure, Natalie could take it off herself, but this was always much more fun. There was something playful about it, much like two kids playing dress up, only just with different intentions. “You’ll make me work for it somehow, won’t you?” </p>
<p>“It’s only fair,” Natalie chimed in again, a quiet giggle following soon afterwards. Her eyes were on the other’s face as she worked, looking at her adoringly. The corner of her lips were still curved upwards.</p>
<p>“I suppose it is,” Renee replied, sighing once more with exaggeration. With the buttons now undone, Renee let her hand lift up to the other’s right cheek while the other went to rest on her shoulder. She caressed the skin there, gentle enough to not smear the makeup but still full of care. The older woman understood why she hid the scar, but she always wished that one day, she could grow to love it too. She tilted her head a little and smiled like an absolute fool as Natalie moved her face into the touch, letting her eyes close. “This one is just pulled over, right?” she asked quietly. Women’s clothes always blew her mind at the intricacies of the buttons and zippers, the frills and the ribbons, and the overflow of color. She was just fine in her t-shirt and jeans at the moment, though she’d indulge in the more masculine clothing when she felt like it. </p>
<p>“Oui, but...” Natalie replied quietly before letting out a content sigh. </p>
<p>“Yes?” Renee inquired once more, feeling a chuckle rise in her throat. She had a feeling she knew where this was going. She leaned over a little, letting the already small space between them shrink even more. </p>
<p>“Just... a few more moments?” the blonde asked quietly. One of her own hands had gone to rest on top of Renee’s, keeping it in place. “S'il te plaît?” </p>
<p>To hide the grin on her face, Renee leaned over to press the lightest kiss against the tip of the other’s nose. This made Natalie’s own smile grow and her eyes open. Oh god, she was looking at Renee with such joy that it made the older woman’s heart ache. “Yeah, absolutely,” the other woman gladly answered back. She let her other arm hug around the other’s waist now, drawing her a bit closer. Her other hand still rested against the other’s cheek. </p>
<p>They stood like that for one minute, then another, then another. </p>
<p>Eventually, it morphed back into another hug. Soon, Natalie was leaning against the other, hands now loosely around her necks, as Renee slowly began to rock them back and forth. She had begun to hum something similar to the jazz song that had been stuck in her head.</p>
<p>“Were you going to try that dress on?” Renee asked after another minute had ticked past. “Or did you just want me to hold you?” </p>
<p>Instead of saying anything, Natalie took the chance to give the other woman a kiss. It was slow but gentle and sweet, the blonde’s own lips soft against her own. It was Natalie’s own way of answering, silently saying: yes, I was going to, but now I just want to be here with you. Once they parted, another smile was balanced on her face as she clasped her lover again in a quick hug before drawing away. Hugs were abound when Natalie was around, and there was no way of escape. “Okay, I think I’m good to go now,” she answered, now handing the new dress over to the other. </p>
<p>“You’ve had your moment now, yeah?” Renee teased, getting a playful shove from the other woman. The older woman really wasn’t complaining, though. Chuckling and laying the new dress over her shoulder, Renee gently pulled off the dress of the other woman. With a little maneuvering and cooperation from Natalie, she was able to slip it off of her, only leaving her perfectly groomed hair only a little fuzzy. The older woman stood back for a moment, hands resting on her own hips. Unashamed, she let her eyes slide over the other’s figure. She clicked her tongue and shook her head, finally saying, “I think I prefer you wearing this.” </p>
<p>Natalie gasped at her and muttered the other woman’s name under her breath as if she was deeply appalled, but the playful look in her eyes helped Renee know she hadn’t crossed any lines. </p>
<p>The other dress was to be put on afterwards, but this time Renee’s assistance hadn’t been required. Instead, Natalie sat the other woman down on her bed, instructing her to close her eyes and wait until she had permission to open them. The other woman humored her, just like she always had and always would, and waited. The blonde’s own giggles as she threw on what was suppose to be the dress made the other woman smile and shake her own head. Just what had she gotten herself into? </p>
<p>The first time Natalie had told her to open her eyes, she had thrown on one of Renee’s suit jackets with a tie haphazardly around her neck and a very crooked hat. The laughter that erupted out of the blonde as Renee gawked at her was loud and candid, a bubbly melody that was music to Renee’s ears. A truly heavenly sound, this Renee was sure of. If it meant a wrinkled suit jacket and a knotted tie to hear it, then it was completely worth it. Natalie soon doubled over in her laughter, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. The blonde thought herself to be a comedic genius, especially because Renee was slightly amused too. The corners of Renee’s lips were turned up in a small smile, and she had shook her head in a playful way. Once more, Renee got up and gathered the other in her arms again, whispering silly teases and warnings in her ear and pressing sneaky kisses on her face. Eventually, the hat ended up on Renee’s head just as crooked as before while the suit jacket was disregarded onto the bed, thrown in a heap. Renee was pushed back into her original seat with another kiss and an order to close her eyes again. </p>
<p>The second time Natalie had her open her eyes, she was met with a ghost. Not the ones that haunted houses and scared children away, but rather one made of bed sheets and giggles. Renee shook her head again, chuckles escaping her mouth, and tried her best to act scared as the terrifying bedsheet ghost came towards her. The older woman threw the hat at it in a last ditch effort to save herself, which caused the ghost to erupt in laughter underneath and trip over its own sheets, landing on top of Renee. As the sheets were pulled away, Natalie appeared once more, giving her a wide smile. They argued, jokingly, over just how scared Renee had been. Eventually, Renee had to cut her off as she was explaining for the fifth time that Renee had to of been terrified, doing so by capturing her lips in another kiss. Hands cradled faces and played with hair. Then, just like that, Natalie bounced up, instructing her to close her eyes again. This time she promised she’d try the dress on this time. </p>
<p>The third time Renee opened her eyes was before Natalie had told her to, and she got a scolding. Fortunately, she hadn’t been able to slip anything on, so no surprise was ruined. She gave a grin at the blonde before closing them again, snickering. </p>
<p>The fourth time, Natalie told her to open them. All Renee could do was stare, her expression blank except for her mouth that hung open. There was no doubt that Elliot had chosen bad. It was a robin’s egg blue dress with a subtle white flower pattern, just enough to be tasteful and not overbearing, with turned down collar and the usual three-fourths sleeves. Natalie was already turning in it, the fabric swishing back and forth. </p>
<p>“What do you think?” Natalie asked, her eyes still studying the dress as it moved. </p>
<p>“Beautiful,” Renee breathed out. Her brain had stopped functioning as far as Renee was aware of. God. Now she understood why Elliot took so many pictures. She would also have to thank him later. </p>
<p>“What did you say, ma chéri?” Natalie asked, looking up. </p>
<p>"Just come kiss me again," Renee mumbled without really thinking. A fool. Oh god, she was a fool for this woman. </p>
<p>However, before Natalie could even begin walking, there was a frantic knocking at the door. Giving each other puzzled looks, they both moved over towards the door. The blonde was first to reach it, but it was Renee who reached for the handle. Carefully, the door was opened. </p>
<p>A worried Elliot stood in the doorway, hand still raised to continue knocking on the door. “Hey, ladies,” he greeted, trying his best to sound cheerful, but his weak smile gave it away. “I don’t mean to inter- intar- ent-,” he stammered through the word before shaking his head out of frustration, “bother you two, but uh Pissy Pe- I mean, Peter. Peter. He’s here, and I’m afraid he’s going to break the door down with his knocking.” His weak smile turned sympathetic now, looking over to Natalie. “Sorry, Nat.” </p>
<p>A quiet “oh” escaped Natalie’s lips. The blonde’s usual sunny demeanor dimmed in that moment. Her smile faded, being replaced with a thin fine line, and her eyes flickered with what looked like fear. The woman who had just been playing dress up with Renee and filled up any room with her own special kind of luminosity was no longer with them. She shed a glance towards them both before mumbling out a very quiet apology. The blonde moved past them, quickly making her way towards the entrance to the house. Both Renee and Elliot followed after her heels like sheepdogs after sheep, wanting to protect but still fearing the wolf. Fear was beginning to rise in both of their chests, gnarled and twisted like brambles, and it was growing obvious. </p>
<p>They weren’t the only ones alarmed either. Pathfinder was already at the door, ears bent back and tail still. His lips were pulled back in a snarl as he growled at the door. It was peculiar of him; usually he was happy to greet any kind of stranger. Despite Natalie trying to shoo him back so she could open the door, he stood in his stance as the fur on the back of his neck continued to rise. The only other sound was still the persistent, loud knocking on the door. Such a shame for him; he could never hide his own emotions, his body language always giving him away. </p>
<p>“Natalie,” Renee spoke up as she settled behind her. She wanted to move closer, just be closer, but Elliot tugging and holding onto the back on her shirt kept her from doing so. Her fear was beginning to churn into anger and protectiveness, bearing sharp bristles like that of a porcupine, and the very last thing she needed to do was send them flying. The sharp points would have to be dulled though, and they needed to be dulled soon.</p>
<p>There was nothing she could do, and that was what infuriated her the most.  Renee despised being helpless, both for herself and for the people she cared about. If Renee couldn’t protect them, then what good was she?</p>
<p>The blonde glanced back, and she offered the other woman a weak smile. It was probably meant to be reassuring, but it only made the pit in Renee’s stomach grow deeper. Renee wanted to do something, anything, but she was held back like a dog on a chain. “It’s okay! I’m sure he’s not that upset,” she explained, her tone quieter than she expected. “He just gets... worked up! Really emotional, you know?” </p>
<p>“Uh, Natalie, I don’t mean to say it but that is kind of what upset means,” Elliot pointed out, uncertainty thick in his words. His arm had moved behind Renee’s waist, letting his hand rest on her hip. Usually, she would of snapped at him, not yet realizing exactly what he was doing, but she was focused on trying to burn a hole through the door with her glare.</p>
<p>Natalie waved a hand at him, giving an awkward chuckle. “Non, non. It’ll be fine,” she tried her best at convincing them. She now pulled on the door handle, letting the door open. </p>
<p>As it did, Elliot leaned over to his wife’s ear. “If you do anything, Renee, you know this’ll all be over. You know that,” he warned her. “Play nice, or he’ll know something is up,” he gave her one of his own charismatic smiles that could dazzle anyone at her to make his point, “Put on a smile and be the nice square couple across the street, and it’ll be okay.” </p>
<p>Renee didn’t have a public or friendly smile, but she nodded anyway. She had heard him, at the very least. She had heard him. Her arms crossed across her chest, and remnants of her glare still flickered in her eyes. “Not for her,” she muttered under her breath. </p>
<p>Natalie had peaked her head out at first, frantic whispering coming from the blonde. Renee wasn’t able to hear it all, but she was able to catch a few choice words and phrases: don’t, please, calm down, nice, and angry. Harsh, deep replies were only returned, criticisms and accusations, but they were muffled. It added kindle to the burning anger in her chest. No one should be so damn upset that their wife was at a friend’s house, regardless of her relationship with Natalie. Natalie was allowed to have a life outside of the house, but Peter didn’t think so. Jesus. She wasn’t a dog. </p>
<p>The older woman could feel her feet itching to move forward, to do anything, but Elliot pulled her back before she could make a step. A glare was shot in his direction, but he didn’t back down. “Stop it,” he stage whispered to her, giving her a serious look. “Do you want to get beat up?” </p>
<p>“I can take him,” she muttered back quietly, giving him another serious look. She meant every word. When Elliot rolled his eyes at her, she scoffed and gestured towards the cracked open door. “Seriously, Elliot, I can.” </p>
<p>“Shut up,” he whispered again, frowning at her. “Do you want to lose Natalie? Do you?” His words came out somewhat harsh, but it was really growing worry. </p>
<p>For once, Elliot made a lot of sense. Unfortunately, Renee didn’t want to listen to sense. She opened her mouth, ready to answer that she didn’t but that didn’t necessarily mean she couldn’t punch the bastard’s face in, but Elliot had whispered something else that had caught her off guard. </p>
<p>“You love her, Ren, so don’t do this.” </p>
<p>(Oh.) </p>
<p>Renee stopped. Words hung on her lips, grasping at straws to find something to say, but nothing came out. </p>
<p>(So that’s what it was?) </p>
<p>And besides, the door was opening now. Elliot stood straight again, nervously running a hand through his hair and putting on his salesmen smile. </p>
<p>(Love?)</p>
<p>Peter was, unsurprisingly, not fine on the other side of the door. With a scowl on his face, his hands clenched in fists, his face red from anger, he glared at them both. It was obvious that the perfect American boy wasn’t able to mask his own real feelings; being raised amongst cotton fields, bird dogs, and cattle, he didn’t need to. He sized them up, his anger triumphing  over his usual rationale. If he had it, that is, Renee always mused. Like most people, he towered over Renee, having a good foot and a half over her. </p>
<p>(Already?) </p>
<p>Renee could take him, though. She could. She’d taken on bigger. She stared back, expression blank but intense, her own features darkening. There was her own anger, storming and thundering in her chest, but the small ivy plant of jealousy was watered by it. He didn’t know how fortunate he was, how damn lucky he was, to have Natalie, and it infuriated her. </p>
<p>(So soon?) </p>
<p>Elliot had pulled forward; he knew better than to let his wife do any talking, so he went on right ahead. That smile flashed and twinkled, and he raised his hand for a handshake. “I’m sorry,” he spoke with confidence. “But I don’t think we’ve met! A shame, really. Natalie talks so highly of you!” he told the other man, his hand still yet to be taken. Natalie, in fact, barely mentioned him, but Elliot was a well weathered salesman; he knew what to do to get the result he wanted. Being dashingly charming and handsome, as he would tell you, also helped tremendously. “I’m Elliot Witt, and this is my wife, Renee Witt. Oh, and our dog, Pathfinder. Can’t forget him.” </p>
<p>Pathfinder still watched the stranger carefully, his growling subdued but still wary. His neck fur still raised, he was suspicious, but like his owners, he knew to be careful. He really was quite a smart dog. </p>
<p>Peter looked a little taken off guard by such a formal introduction. He stared at Elliot now, eyes a little confused, but slowly he shook the Elliot’s hand. “Peter,” he said plainly. “I’m sorry if Natalie has been botherin’ you. She has a habit of runnin’ her mouth and don’t know when she ain’t wanted no more,” he apologized, shaking his head. “But she knew better than to stay this late. She should be home, makin’ supper.” </p>
<p>Renee’s blood was boiling now. Her features darkened even more at his own remarks about his wife, the woman he was suppose to love, and she let her arms fall to her side. Natalie was one of the most interesting people she’d ever met, probably one of the smartest too, and her rambling on about the things she was fascinated with was one of the best things about her. When she rambled, which she was prone to, Renee couldn’t help but listen, being drawn in by Natalie’s first few words and eventually growing interested because of Natalie’s own passion for it. To see her so passionate about something, whether it was the little devices she worked on, a new meal she wanted to try, or a book she’d been reading, was amazing, unlike any woman Renee had seen before, and Renee loved her for it. God, Peter was an idiot. An absolute idiot. Frankly, the bastard wouldn’t know good if it hit him on his stupid face. </p>
<p>(There’s that word again.) </p>
<p>Natalie just stood beside her husband now. There was this smile she’d plastered onto her face, forced and fragile. The blonde was bouncing on the balls of her feet now, hands behind her back as she politely waited for their own withdrawal. Her eyes stayed on Peter, some sort of sad hope flickering her gaze, but it would fall to her feet when his words would graze her. That smile would falter until she looked up again, that same hope in them again. It made Renee’s heart hurt and want to punch him even more times over. </p>
<p>“Oh, no, not at all!” Elliot quickly corrected him, shaking his head. “In fact, we love having her over! She’s absolutely wonderful and such a lovely guest to have over,” his gaze glanced back over to Renee, “Right, dear?” </p>
<p>Renee had a part to play, and that was to be the seemingly normal, joyful wife. She looked up and tried her best to look somewhat friendly and inviting. This has about the same affect of trying to make an cougar look sweet. The smile she gave probably made her look stupid, but smiling wasn’t exactly her forte, especially when it meant smiling for men. “Yes, absolutely,” she agreed, moving up and linking her arm with Elliot’s. To her, her voice sounded warbled and mock, but her own fondness smoothed it out when she started to talk about Natalie. “We love having her here. She’s always such a delight that we accidentally keep her longer sometimes,” she glanced over to the woman in question, “I hope you’ll forgive us. We’ll just have to watch the clock better next time.” </p>
<p>Natalie’s lips had curled into a genuine smile, albeit a little small, but it fell as soon as Peter talked again. </p>
<p>“Glad someone likes her,” he replied as if he was exhausted. Both of the Witts hoped and prayed that it was just because of work, but knowing Peter, it was probably because of his own stupid hogwash. </p>
<p>“We certainly do,” Renee quickly informed him, her eye twitching. That’s it. This was the day she was going to beat up Natalie’s husband. “She’s lovely,” Renee insisted now. ‘And so much more,’ she wanted to add, but Renee knew very well that Peter’s little mind couldn’t comprehend such a thing. </p>
<p>Elliot, seeming to have read her mind, tightened his own grip on his wife’s arm. As far as he was concerned, this wouldn’t be the day Renee was going to beat up Natalie’s husband. He wanted to get this over with soon. “Well, we are keeping you, aren’t we? We certainly wouldn’t want to keep you any longer! Besides, we’ve got dinner to make as well,” Elliot flashed his smile again, twirling his free hand around as a way of parting. “You two just, uh, run along. It was an absolute pleasure meeting you, Peter...?” </p>
<p>“Price,” he finished the other’s sentence. He then frowned, glanced over to his wife, and sighed. “I hope Natalie hasn’t told you Paquette. She can’t seem to get it right. She’s real forgetful.” </p>
<p>Natalie didn’t answer. She looked like a dog that had pissed on the carpet, only because the owner was too lazy to open the door for it but will be yelled at for it regardless. Most would call it negligence, but it was only normal. This dog in particular had been trained with kicks to its side, hits to its face, and prong collars and thought it love. It was just too sweet, too confused, too manipulated to bare its fangs. </p>
<p>Elliot paused, not expecting such a response, and he slowly nodded his head. “She certainly hasn’t, but... Let’s not mind that now, yeah? Peter Price, it was a pleasure meeting you, and as always, Natalie, you were a treasure,” his smile became sincere, not just his salesman one, “and you know you are always welcomed over.” </p>
<p>She mumbled a thank you in French, but a quick icy glare from Peter had her repeating it, only this time in English. Her own bubbly words seemed to be gone, a ghost of who she was ten minutes ago. </p>
<p>Pathfinder, now realizing that his friend was about to leave, walked up to Natalie and pawed at her dress. She knelt down, softly cooing and saying goodbye to the animal, because she always left him with a formal goodbye and a kiss on the nose. She insisted that he was smarter than he let on, a real genius amongst his race, and the Witts humored her at first but had come to somewhat believe it too. His tail wagged now, leaving a few parting licks.  </p>
<p>“Nat, now don’t let ‘em paw at that dress. He’ll rip or get mud on it,” Peter chastised her. He went to pull her up by the arm, but when she slightly moved away from it, more subconsciously than anything, her name coldly spilled out of his mouth. He grabbed her by the arm, the force unnecessarily harsh, and pulled his wife up. She squeaked, caught off guard by such a sudden force, but the blonde quickly shut herself up. Natalie mumbled out an apology, and she didn’t dare meet his gaze. </p>
<p>Natalie didn’t know any better, one would think at first, but that wasn’t the case. It was more so that she hadn’t realized it herself, and to tell her otherwise probably wouldn’t work. Thinking it love, there were excuses and apologies she gave to him that she wouldn’t give to anyone else. After all, he was her husband, and no one ever wanted to admit anything bad about their husband. Not when they dangled financial security above their heads that a woman could never achieve herself, similar to a toy that they could yank away if they so pleased before a dog could grab it itself. It was only just much sadder to watch in person. </p>
<p>They parted ways a few seconds after that. Peter taking charge as they walked across the street, Natalie scurrying along after him. She looked back only once, giving the Witts a small smile as if to reassure them, before a sharp voice called her along. Elliot let the door close after that, but they both watched from the small window cut into the door. </p>
<p>“What an absolute dick,” Elliot muttered, shaking his head. “I know you said he was bad, Renee, but Jesus Christ. That’s uh... worse than bad? Isn’t there a word for that?” </p>
<p>Renee stayed quiet, watching through the window. The Prices had made it to their porch now, Peter unlocking the door. The blonde stood behind him, back turned to Renee, with her hands behind her back. She was fidgeting with them. </p>
<p>Pathfinder whined and scratched at the door. </p>
<p>“You can’t say badder because that doesn’t really make sense... Not good is too plain. A piece of shit, maybe? No, it doesn’t convey it well enough. He’s worse than that. Plus it’s better if I don’t curse; that’s your whole thing, not mine. I’m the one going into an office, so I can’t pick up that kind of- Oh, wait, you know what?” </p>
<p>Renee was still silent. They’d gone in now. </p>
<p>“I could of just said he’s the absolute worst. That’s all I needed to say. That works. What do you think, Renee? Unless you have a better suggestion, I think I’ve got it all figured out,” he rambled, putting extra emphasis on the all. </p>
<p>“I love her,” Renee mumbled quietly. “I actually do.” </p>
<p>“Come again, Ren?” </p>
<p>“I love her,” she repeated again, louder this time. </p>
<p>“Sorry, just a little louder.” </p>
<p>“I love her.” </p>
<p>“Just a little more. Sorry, my hearing is really bad today. Like super bad.” </p>
<p>“I said I love her? How the hell can you not hear me?” Renee grumbled. Then she frowned and raised her eyebrows at him, finally looking away from the Prices’s porch. “You literally have never mentioned having hearing problems before.” </p>
<p>“Just a hair more, Renee, I can almost hear it.” </p>
<p>“Oh my god, you’re joking,” she scoffed, “You’re fucking joking.” </p>
<p>Elliot grinned at his wife. “Of course I am. I heard you the first time.” He shrugged his shoulders at her despite her growing more and more annoyed by the second. “Just wanted to hear you say it a few times. I can’t believe it’s taken you this long to realize it.” Then, he yelped in pain as Renee punched his shoulder. </p>
<p>“You’re literally the worst husband,” she growled. </p>
<p>“But you’re the one who asked to marry me,” he nearly sung back, rubbing his shoulder with his hand. </p>
<p>“Shut the hell up. You know damn well it was mutual.” </p>
<p>“But you had the idea.” </p>
<p>“So what? We agreed to it at the same time, so that literally doesn’t count.” </p>
<p>“Says who?” </p>
<p>“Me?” </p>
<p>This conversation bounced back and forth, back and forth, back and forth until they began to play wrestle like two siblings, brother and sister, despite them both being in their thirties. It was immature, so immature, but that’s all they could see each other as: a grumpy older sister and a jokester little brother who stepped on each other’s toes every time they opened their mouths. </p>
<p>However, even as they shoved each other around, it didn’t change the fact that Renee had realized that she loved Natalie. Oh god, did she love Natalie. </p>
<p>*** </p>
<p>When Natalie flinched away from her touch the next day, moving a few inches away on the couch, Renee retracted her hand and didn’t get upset. She looked over to her in worry, eyebrows slanted and eyes sharp but caring in hopes of figuring out what was wrong, but she didn’t try to touch the blonde again. She knew that it wasn’t her decision now but rather Natalie’s decision. Natalie brought her legs up to hug, slowly beginning to rock herself back and forth, and her hands ran over her arms. Her eyes are closed, but her breath seemed shaky and quick. </p>
<p>Renee, instead, waited for a few seconds. Then, softly she spoke, “I’ll be right here if you need me.” </p>
<p>For ten minutes, Natalie didn’t need her. She rocked herself during it, letting the repetitive motion calm her. Renee had picked up a book laying on the coffee table, planning to read, but her eyes scanned over words that aren’t absorbed in the slightest. Worry still held her mind, spurring itself to life over and over like the bucking of an unbroken horse. She placed the book down only a minute later, letting her gaze move over to the window to the backyard. Blue birds and sparrows hopped around a stone birdbath that had come with a house. They gathered around a feeder that Elliot had put up with Bloodhound’s help and their insistence. Pathfinder, on the other hand, was digging a hole. Trees swayed as gentle wind danced with their branches, still marked with green of summer. Cicadas emerged from beneath their bark, their siren like buzz echoing through the air. </p>
<p>Then, for the next five minutes, Natalie hesitantly laid her palm out. Renee slowly took it. Soft circles were rubbed on to skin and fingers were traced. The older woman stayed only where she was given, though she began to hum now. </p>
<p>After those minutes ticked past, Natalie stirred again. Like a cautious cat, she slipped underneath Renee’s arm and rested against her chest. The blonde’s arms went around the other’s torso, though it became slack quite quickly. Her eyes fell close and her breathing grew slow again. The older woman rested her head against the other’s. Both of them knew how to appreciate silence. </p>
<p>They stayed like this for a while until Natalie fell asleep. Renee followed soon after her. Both were tired. Renee had been up last night till late, sick with worry. Natalie had also stayed up late, but not exactly by her choice. </p>
<p>The trees continued to sway outside, the birds kept playing in the bath and munching on seed, and Pathfinder was still digging his hole. Cicadas buzzed and buzzed, announcing to the world their long awaited arrival. </p>
<p>The world could be cruel sometimes.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Historians looking at the photos years later: and they were good friends :) </p>
<p>Anyway, hello all! This chapter comes a bit late, mainly because I realized that I hadn’t actually gotten to touch more on Renee and Natalie’s relationship in regards to the plot! That just means y’all get some soft 1950s darksparks and more reasons to hate Natalie’s husband. Key idea here: you are suppose to hate the hell out of him, and I’ll make sure you do <br/>Which also means this is an extra chapter and it’s bumped up to 9 chapters total now! I’m also considering adding MAYBE one more of this sort of chapter to just explore the relationship a little more, but I haven’t decided yet. </p>
<p>Also! There is an analogy introduced in chapter IV that I will draw back to multiple times over, especially the further along I get. Kind of a commentary about husband-wife dynamics in the 1950s because I have a lot of thoughts about it now.<br/>And there will be a works cited available at the end of this story, but some sources will be provided earlier on so you can decide why I chose to do some things that I do or so you can reference something I discuss in the chapter! </p>
<p>ANYWHO this is long! I hope you all enjoy! Comments and kudos are always loved tremendously; they mean an incredible deal to me. Thank you all so much so far!! <br/>What happened to Natalie after she left is also up to interruption. I didn’t want to put anything in stone.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. VI. She wrapped herself up in an enigma; there was no other way to keep warm.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: Discussion of past miscarriage</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Produce in Georgia can be wonderful in the summer time. Really, anything in the Deep South has the soil for it unless you’re in the foothills of the Appalachia where the dirt is red and hard, a true clay more than anything else, but there is something about the Peach State. Of course, Georgia has those peach trees that stretch for acres upon acres within its state lines; after being carefully tugged down from their branch, they’ll adorn the farmer’s stand from May till September, attracting anyone with their rich orange and red fuzz. Just as Idaho is known for their potatoes, Wisconsin for their cheese, Tennessee for their moonshine, Georgia is known, unsurprisingly, for their peaches. Juice drips down your face when you bite into them, but the sweetness that melts on your tongue is always worth the mess. </p><p>Peter loved peaches. He was the perfect American boy, as everyone knew, but he was born and bred in Georgia. He’d grown up on a farm, so he knew how to watch a peach till it was time to be plucked down and what to do when a cow was having trouble birthing their calf. </p><p>Natalie, on the other hand, didn’t really care for them. She’d only reach for them when there was some ice cream or were inside a warm cobbler fresh out of the oven, and that was only if there was nothing else. </p><p>Renee despised them. She hated the texture. </p><p>“Did you eat all of the strawberries, ma chérie?” Natalie asked as she dug through the bag she’d brought along. There was a quiet hum from the woman who laid beside her, eyes still skimming over the book. Now holding her book with one hand, Renee passed over the small container in question with the other. A few of the berries softly tumbled, soft thumps pattering as they shifted, but the older woman’s response of “Right here, baby” gave Natalie all she needed to know. Her face lit up upon seeing it, glad that there was still some of them left. Reaching for them, she let her hand linger on the other woman’s for a moment, causing a hint of a grin to grow on Renee’s face. It was all they could do while sitting in public, but they both appreciated the long touches and glances regardless. </p><p>“That’s... Oh, it starts with an F...” Renee mumbled as Natalie popped the lid off. She rapidly began to flip through her book, her gaze growing focused and determined. As always, her nose scrunched up, but Natalie was too focused on the strawberries to notice. A shame, really, because the blonde found that to be one of her favorite quirks about Renee. </p><p>(There were plenty of other quirks Natalie knew. Renee only ever drank her coffee black and burning hot. Renee always dog eared her pages and would write in her books, illegible to anyone else because of her chicken scratch handwriting. Her eyes always jumped forward a few lines too soon as she read, simply because she had to know what would happen. Renee always left the keys in the car and forgot where she placed just about everything, even if she just had it a few moments ago. Renee always put much more pepper than salt on practically all of her food despite Natalie’s protest that it definitely didn’t need anymore. Seriously, who puts that much pepper on their eggs? Though, the most important one Natalie knew had to be that underneath that aloof exterior, Renee could be incredibly tender and caring if you had the patience and care to help Renee find it too.) </p><p>“Pardon?” Natalie asked, her eyes now browsing the red fruit left in the bowl. Like any smart person, her eyes searched for the biggest one left. Their sweet smell was wafting up from the bowl, subtle but just enough to make you begin to smile. </p><p>“It’s... Fr-“ Renee started to speak the word, trying again and again to say it. Luckily, it had just been enough for the blonde to know what she was saying. </p><p>Natalie just smiled. She looked at the other with a deep love in her eyes, light blue eyes bright and almost shimmering. A joy sprung up in her chest, spreading through her like fireflies; these insects of joy scattered throughout her body and kept glowing, glowing, glowing instead of letting their light dim for a few moments. </p><p>“La fraise?” she suggested. </p><p>“Yes! That’s it!” Renee exclaimed, now closing her book and averting her attention to the blonde. It was obvious that the older woman was thrilled to have remembered the word. If anything, she looked like a puppy bringing back a ball for the first, both equal parts proud and excited. “Can you say it again? I just want to hear you again and I will try to mimic it?” she asked. Then she seemed to perk up a little more, seeing a chance present itself. “And, you know, because your voice is really sweet.” </p><p>Oh, Natalie wanted to kiss her right now. </p><p>Giving her a grin, Natalie repeated the phrase a few more times. The words fell smoothly from her tongue, the word soft and smooth. For poor Renee, though, it came out strangled and tarnished first, sounding like she was trying to say the word fresh with an incredibly bad French accent. Natalie slowed her speech at this, giving the emphasis and the softness to the letters in the word that needed it. Renee listened, intently, eyes sharp and focused; she was never one to do a sloppy job, even if it proved to be a challenge. Slowly, her pronunciation began to mold into something much more reminiscent of when the word slipped out of the blonde’s mouth. </p><p>“Parfait!” Natalie exclaimed once Renee pronounced it correctly. Her hands clapped together, having placed down the bowl of strawberries as she taught the other woman, and a sense of excitement shook through her body. The blonde could feel her hands itch to move, to flap or to have fingers bind, but an ingrained fear instead had her hands grab at her dress and bunch up the fabric. Something foreign also flourished in her chest, a sense of  care and relief washing over her. Like a warm blanket, it covered over her, and it wanted her to let more French spill out of her mouth. It was acceptance, something she rarely ever received from her husband, but was provided by Renee without much thought behind it. Something automatic, if anything. </p><p>(For the only times French ever left Peter’s mouth, it was always to mock her.) </p><p>Renee gave her a small smile, but it was obvious that she was incredibly tickled on the inside. Her eyes betrayed her, growing bright and excited. “Got one,” she replied simply, pointing at Natalie. </p><p>“You did! Je suis si fier!” Natalie cheered. She let her hand playfully swat at her other’s raised hand, finger still pointed and poised, before capturing it with her own. The hands fell low onto the blanket now, possible prying eyes making them afraid, but Natalie kept hers resting atop Renee’s. She couldn’t resist, not now, not with this moment being so sweet and so meaningful. “You’re doing lovely, Renee. That book has been really helpful, non?” </p><p>“Oui,” Renee responded, her smile growing into a Cheshire Cat grin. The book in question now laid against her chest, discarded for the chance to ultimately hold Natalie’s hand. It was a thick booker, the cover red with scuffed edges and yellowing paper, with a rather simple title: <em>Learn To Speak French</em>. She’d found it a few weeks ago at a book store, and the older woman had rather proudly showed it to Natalie the next day. She explained that since she didn’t have a job and would rather die before she became a full-fledged housewife, she needed something to do while Natalie wasn’t there. Learning her lover’s native tongue seemed like a fairly good option; she could understand Natalie better and they could also make fun of Elliot without him even realizing it. </p><p>The look of excitement just grew on the blonde’s face. All she could think about was smothering her in affection: a kiss to the lips, running her hand across her jawline, pulling her close for a long hug. Of course, the blonde couldn’t, not when they sat in the bustling Grant Park on a summer day. Even though they sat in their own fairly secluded place, underneath a tree that was a good distance from the walking path, people still seemed to be everywhere. Many people were walking along the path, mothers pushing prams and people walking their dogs. A few other groups sat somewhat near them on their own blankets, eating packed sandwiches or simply chattering amongst themselves. A group of kids played with a ball about one hundred feet away, yelling in joy and running around on the field. Summer was waning, and it seemed everyone there was trying to make the most of the last few days. </p><p>Instead, Natalie just patted the other’s hand. “I think you’ll be speaking just as good as me in a few weeks if you keep it up,” Natalie praised her, giving her a playful wink. This wasn’t what she actually wanted to say; sweet affections hung on her lips and sat on her tongue, holding much more adoration than the ones she already showered the other woman with. Natalie, however, wasn’t ready to admit it yet, mainly to herself. No, not yet. She loved Peter, loved him, not Renee. She didn’t love Renee, not like she loved him. </p><p>(Then what was this?) </p><p>Renee laughed at that, a deep and smooth sound that Natalie always loved to hear. It was hard to get Renee to laugh, but when Natalie did, she felt like she had won an award. Adoration filled Natalie’s eyes as the older woman fought through the rest of her laughter, and she squeezed the other’s hand. “Sure, sure,” Renee finally replied, shaking her head. “I’ll be lucky if I can introduce myself in French in a month.” </p><p>(And what about everything else? The happiness that Renee brought to her, the way her pulse thudded in her ears every time she knocked on her door, gifts in the form of French dishes and trinkets, how that warm feeling blossomed in her chest and wrapped around her every time she was in Renee’s arms and when she whispered her own adorations in her ear. Why did she feel that so strongly and so clear? And why could Peter never provoke those same feelings for her?) </p><p>“Nonsense!” Natalie informed her. </p><p>(Natalie knew why. She knew. The blonde wasn’t stupid.)

</p>
<p>“You know it’s true,” Renee insisted. </p><p>(Yet, heaven nor hell could get her to say it. No. Not now. Natalie can’t admit why just yet.)</p><p>“You know it isn’t!” </p><p>“It’s true.” </p><p>“It isn’t!” </p><p>Renee chuckled, rolling her eyes. She had always been much more of pessimist than the woman sitting beside her. Learning language was hard, especially the older one got, so she knew that she certainly didn’t have much hope. Her hand slipped up Natalie’s arm now, resting against her elbow. A smile cracked across her face and she tilted her head a little, letting herself admire the blonde for a few moments. Something was flashing across her mind, but what it was wasn’t clear nor spoken. With reluctance, the hand traced down the other’s skin, her fingers eventually tracing along her palm. A quiet hum came from her mouth, but the smile still remained. It was utterly lovesick. </p><p>Natalie’s cheeks warmed to a rose pink. “Do you want me to help you practice?” she offered, giving her another soft smile. Natalie was always eager to help Renee with learning the language. At home, they’d sit curled up on the couch or laying in bed, carefully going through the motions of French conversation. She’d help when the other stumbled through the sentence or pronounced a word wrong, and she’d help cheer her own through words of encouragement and soft kisses. The only issue was that they got distracted a lot at home, either by  a nosy kitten and dog or by their own doings. Too many French lessons ended up with the book discarded on the coffee table for more important pursuits like playing with Nikola, taking Pathfinder on a walk, or Natalie pulling the other into her arms.</p><p>“Please?” Renee pleaded, desperation clouding her eyes. “I can’t get this sentence structure down. This is much harder than I thought.” Again, her hand traced along the blonde’s arm before returning to hold the book open. It was almost a chaste contact, but there was still a care and gentleness there. It was all they could have until they got home; it was too risky to do much else. </p><p>Natalie giggled. She gave the other a determined look, eyebrows drawing towards each other and her lips shifting into a small smile. “Of course, though I can assure you that it is not all that hard,” she moved the bowl of strawberries into her lap, “But first, one more fraise and then I’m ready to help.” </p><p>Here, the two women were free from distractions and all attention was brought to the romantic language. While the book was a great provider of the language, Natalie’s own patience and explanations were a thousand times better. Renee would stutter out the words from the book while Natalie would correct her and provide her own insight. It took some repetition and a little coaxing, but slowly the older woman began to piece words together, place them in their right order, and figure out how some adjectives worked. It was an incredibly slow process despite Renee usually being a fast learner, but neither of them really seemed to mind. It was all excited smiles and looks accompanied by soft touches and words to encourage each other. With only a few promptings and a little help, Renee was able to introduce herself in her lover’s native tongue. </p><p>Excitement overtook Natalie immediately, and neither of them were surprised when she pulled Renee into a hug. The blonde didn’t care that it wasn’t perfect or completely correct; the fact that she was trying and kept trying is what meant the most to her. A few compliments were mumbled into her shoulder, making Renee smile and slowly bring her arms around the other. They, of course, stayed like this for longer than they should of, but every time Renee tried to slip away, Natalie just seemed to hold her closer. </p><p>(Affection was not freely given in the Price household, but admittedly, it wasn’t always wanted. A kiss to the head and cheek was expected in the morning and evening, but there didn’t seem to be much beyond that. He really only drew her close when he wanted something from her; even then, his kisses were rough and his grasp too firm. She’d play along just like any adoring housewife should, but even that sometimes wasn’t enough. His words would grow cold and his grasp firmer, especially if she resisted or showed disinterest. Peter knew that he could get it out of her, especially with the way he was convinced that she was wrapped around his finger. That was almost expected of a housewife, after all.) </p><p>“Can we go home?” Natalie asked quietly into Renee’s neck. </p><p>“I thought you wanted to enjoy the sun,” Renee replied in her own soft tone. Her words were like a frayed ribbon, undeniably soft and oh so loved. Even so, all Renee wanted with her words was to tease the other. </p><p>“I did but...” Natalie sighed. Her cheeks grew warm. “I can’t kiss you here, and I really want to right now.” </p><p>(Being with Renee was different, though. Much different.) </p><p>A quiet laughter came from the older woman. “Natalie,” Renee breathed out, now pulling away. Pale blue eyes looked over her, alit with a loving amusement. “You’re too sweet,” she decided, giving her this soft smile. Her hands raised for a moment, wanting to reach out again and just touch her, but they fell only a moment again. No, she couldn’t do that here. Instead, she folded her arms across her chest. “What are we going to do with you?” </p><p>A shy smile spread across Natalie’s face. “Kiss me, I hope?” </p><p>Renee’s face grew more amused, and a quiet laugh escaped her lips. It was different than Natalie’s, much deeper and brash in contrast to the sweet and bubbly laughter the blonde had. The blonde had grown to love the sound, and she certainly thought that she didn’t hear it enough. Each time Renee laughed because of Natalie’s doings made her ecstatic and happy, finding it to be contagious. </p><p>Unfortunately, the adored sound couldn't last forever. Her laughter slowly deflated, much to Natalie’s disappointment, and Renee’s mouth opened to speak. What she was going to say would remain a mystery for a red rubber ball suddenly hitting her in the side stopped her before any words could spill out. Startled by the sudden contact, she turned, eyes bewildered and mouth agape. “What the fuck?” she muttered under her breath. Unsurprisingly, a scowl replaced the look on her face as she stared down the ball. </p><p>The sudden attack had surprised the blonde too. For a moment, she sat there and gawked. Her gaze flicked from Renee to the ball as it slowly rolled away. Neither of them had an explanation as to what had happened. “Renee, are you alright?” Natalie finally asked once she came to her senses. She began to look over the other woman, a hand moving to her side. Concern filled her eyes, even though there was no way there could be a gruesome wound. </p><p>“I guess-“</p><p>“‘M sorry! I’m sorry!” a young voice yelled rather frantically. This made both women look up, confusion clouding their face. A little boy was running up to them now, his pants grass stained and his shirt rustled and untucked. He was going as fast as his little legs could carry him. Worry was written across his features, and as he got closer, Natalie could see tears pricked in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to! I didn’t!” </p><p>He ran up to their spot, landing on his knees in a gasping heap. “Please don’t tell my ma. It really was an accident, I swear I swear!” he begged between his deep breathes. Tears were running down his face now. </p><p>While Renee just stared, Natalie had already gotten up and rather quickly bounded over to him. “Don’t cry, don’t cry,” she reassured him, crouching down beside him. “We aren’t going to tell anyone. You’re alright!” she said, offering him a sweet smile. It was best to move away from the incident now. “You must be a very strong young man to get it up here all the way. How’d you get it up here so far?” </p><p>He hiccuped and sniffled. His lip trembled. </p><p>It looked like she’d need to work a little harder. “Unless you can’t tell me,” she spoke with a sense of shock in her voice. Natalie gasped, bringing her hand up to her mouth. “Is it a secret? I shouldn’t of asked... Forgive me if it is!” </p><p>“I-I kicked it.” </p><p>“Did you really? Oh my, how strong you are!” Natalie praised, her smile growing a little bigger. “I could never do that!” </p><p>That seemed to help a little, but he still looked worried. “Is she okay?” he mumbled out, pointing a shaky finger at Renee. The tears had stopped running down his face, but he was still very hesitant. </p><p>“Who? Renee?” Natalie said, now glancing over to the woman still sitting on their blanket. “Oh, don’t worry about her. She can take it,” she stared at the older woman with frantic eyes, “You're okay, aren't you, Renee?” The last thing Natalie needed was for Renee to mess this up, especially right when he had stopped crying. </p><p>“Uh...” Renee started. She had absolutely no experience with children, but Natalie’s narrowing eyes gave her an idea what to do. A strained smile appeared on her face. “Yup! I’m okay! It actually didn’t hurt at all!” </p><p>“Well, isn’t that just perfect?” Natalie exclaimed, turning her gaze back to the boy on the ground. “See? Nothing to worry about!”</p><p>All the boy could offer was a weak nod. He slowly stood up once more, pieces of dry grass falling from his pant legs. “I’m still sorry,” he said once more. </p><p>“Then apology accepted,” Natalie replied, giving him a few pats on the shoulder. She still held a smile on her lips, completely genuine. She knew it was an honest mistake and that he meant nothing by it; no one can exactly help where the ball will end up. Besides, he seemed sincere and was more upset than them, so no harm, no foul. To release tensions even further, the blonde retrieved the ball for him and placed it back in his hands. “Just be a little more careful next time, that’s all!” </p><p>The boy gave another nod, though this one seemed much more certain. “You aren’t gonna tell the other boys, right?” he asked, his tone quiet and almost fearful. “That... that I’d been cryin’?” </p><p>“No, of course not,” Natalie answered him, shaking her head. It was a bit of a silly and unfortunate question, she thought, but she’d respect it nonetheless. People could be cruel, even if they weren't correct in doing so. “I won’t tell a soul, and neither will Renee. Right, Renee?” She didn’t glance behind her this time. </p><p>“Right,” Renee jutted in. Renee was, at least, much faster to respond than she had before. There was a pride in her voice this time too, probably from having responded so quickly.</p><p>“See? You’re just fine!” Natalie insisted. “No one will know. Your secret is safe with us.” </p><p>After a little bit of more reassurance and Natalie giving him a cookie left over from lunch, he bounded away, a half eaten cookie in one hand and the ball tucked under his arm. He looked like a foal running for the first time, excited just how fast he could run. The blonde smiled as she watched, her own features soft and adoring. The blonde had always liked kids, finding their innocence endearing and their curiosity incredible. She hummed at the success of her efforts, especially since it now involved helping someone. Renee, instead, watched Natalie, admiration teeming behind her pale blue eyes. Curiosity seemed to bubble underneath, but it hadn’t quite breached the surface yet. </p><p>“It’s gonna leave a bruise,” Renee spoke up, a playful grin growing on her face. Her hand came to touch the side of Natalie’s stomach, letting her hand rub the spot. </p><p>“No it won’t. Stop being a baby,” Natalie shot back, a giggle escaping her lips. </p><p>“You’ll regret saying that when I’m in such pain tomorrow that I can’t leave the bed tomorrow.” </p><p>“Mon dieu!” the blonde exclaimed, leaning a little more into the other’s touch. “Whoever will kiss me then?” </p><p>“I guess it’ll have to be Pathfinder.” </p><p>Natalie gasped at the joke and shot her an playfully offended glare. She rolled her eyes as she shoved the other woman. Both of them were laughing now. </p><p>“You’re... really good with kids, Nat,” Renee mentioned once their laughter died down. She had laid back down now, letting one arm go behind her head. Her other hand had found the other’s, drawing it close to her side to keep it out of view. “I couldn’t of handled that at all.” </p><p>“Nonsense. It’s really not all that hard,” Natalie explained, smiling at the little bit of contact. “I almost like speaking with them more than adults sometimes.” </p><p>“I don’t know about that. Kids can be pretty cruel.” </p><p>“True, but it comes from a wrongly answered curiosity, I think. Curiosity is all they’re filled with because the world is so new to them, after all. It only hurts if they’ve been told the wrong thing,” she looked out over the field to see the group of boys resume their playing, “But if you take time to explain it, even if they think you’re wrong, they’ll listen and learn. They all crave to... learn, I think, and to listen; they just need your patience and your willingness to tell them.” Her eyes follow as the ball is kicked back into the air, a storm of young boys running and tumbling over each other to get it. </p><p>“That’s a nice way of looking at it,” Renee said. “Hadn’t thought of it like that before.” </p><p>“I don’t think most people do,” she replied. Then a smile grew on her face. “Oh, look! it seems our friend just got the ball again. I hope he’s winning.” </p><p>“You’d be a good mother, Nat,” Rene commented without much thought. She patted the hand she held. While it hadn't been her intention, the words hung in the air, suddenly making it very cold. </p><p>A silence fell between them, but it was unlike their usual comfortable silence. This silence was one that spoke volumes, all in a quiet foreign tongue. It held something, growing heavy like snow on a tree’s branches. Natalie’s hand stilled, and her eyes were glued to the scene ahead. </p><p>(How... old would they have been? Not as old as the boys in front of them, no, but a tumbling three. Maybe a four.) </p><p>She felt something wet against her cheek. Letting go of the other’s hand, she wiped it away. It did little use; it was wet again seconds later, and now it was dripping down her face. </p><p>Then, Natalie reached out at Renee, pulling on the fabric of her shirt. “Can we... back to the car?” she asked in nearly a whisper. Something she’d learned to smother and extinguish was beginning to burn again, threatening to smother steps of progress with ash. The cinders were growing overwhelming, though, for it hadn’t burned in a long time. People had stopped asking and Peter had never cared, so she let it grow with brambles and kudzu, thinking that it helped her move on. She hadn’t expected it to only build up the kindling. </p><p>(Only one name was picked out if it was a boy. Luc after her father. She was stern about this one, putting her foot down with all her might, and Peter had relented. A few others for a girl, but her husband probably wouldn’t of liked her suggestions. She’d need an American name because that’s where they live, not the trashy city of Paris.) </p><p>Things were quickly gathered, Natalie still trying her best to do her fair share despite the tears still wearing in her eyes. Renee had fallen silent, only showing her growing worry through touches and her closeness. She had never been good at comforting others when they grew distressed, but she did know privacy was the upmost importance. She’d rather be caught dead instead of crying in front of anyone, her own vulnerability to be avoided at all costs, so she held the same value for her lover. They’d get to the car first and then she’d try to tackle anything else. There was also a guilt growing in the older woman’s chest, knowing that something she had said struck a cord. It had to be when they’d talked about children, her only hint being that pregnant silence from earlier, but what it was, she didn’t know. She knew the other hadn’t had any luck getting pregnant and subsequently never had, but she only knew this from her encounter with Mrs.Smith. Renee had figured that much and while she knew that hurt, especially since she knew Natalie tried so hard, but this response was a little surprising. Natalie had never mentioned it to her, but it seemed something had been hidden so carefully but had done very little to change its delicacy. </p><p>Taking extra care to avoid people, they made it to the car. They both slipped inside, and while Renee usually waited for the other to come to her, she asked if she could touch her. Arms coming around her neck answered the question, so Renee returned the affection. Renee held her in a hug and told her that she was okay and whatever it was is okay. She didn’t beginning picking and prodding for an answer; she didn’t respond well to that herself, and she doubted Natalie would value the same. So she waited, mumbling out comforts and holding the other close. </p><p>As the final tears slipped down Natalie's face and she was reduced to just sniffles, words began to spill out of her mouth. </p><p>*** </p><p>Peter hadn’t always been this way. </p><p>At least, not this bad. </p><p>He’d never been a particularly sweet kid. Born on a Georgia farm and the sixth of seven children, he’d learned quickly that to get what you wanted, you had to fight or work for it. His answer to any question was always force, especially if it was something he wanted. After all, livestock wouldn’t listen to words when he needed to get them into the barn for the evening. He used their dogs and his own horse instead, corralling them where they needed to go just before the sun came down. This was just who he was, and it didn’t seem like he was going to change. He’d always had more brawn than brains. He could ring a chicken’s neck just as fast as he could throw a punch. He was blunt to a point, much too gruff, and could never really see the bigger picture. He was only civil and studious enough to get by; this was mainly to please his mother and - most importantly -  avoid his mother’s whoopings. </p><p>(It really is a shame she couldn’t raise a better son.) </p><p>And he had charmed Natalie. She may have been a young girl in a foreign country, but she wouldn’t have fallen for an asshole. Not one that was an outright asshole, anyway. </p><p>Sure, his compliments felt more like the rough side of velcro; they stuck together in the moment, but when divorced from each other, they only seemed to scratch. Natalie chalked this up to him not being too good with words and unable to keep his honesty in check. Yes, she had to say goodbye to a few of her friends because Peter insisted that he just didn’t trust them or they weren’t a good influence, but that was okay. He knew them better since he had gone to school there for much longer than her; perhaps, he knew something that she didn’t. He was her boyfriend despite all of this because, well, after all... </p><p>He stuck with her like glue when she came to America. </p><p>He didn’t mind how she spoke broken English. </p><p>He didn’t freak out when she showed him the scar. </p><p>He held her when her father died. </p><p>He had asked her to marry him. </p><p>(He had been a good choice, hadn’t he?)</p><p>But how he was now? No. He was worse, even if Natalie couldn’t admit it just yet. </p><p>He’d been different... No, they’d been different before... before what had happened. </p><p>(At least, she thought so.) </p><p>He’d just gotten back from the war. Oh god, how happy they had been. He was home after years away, but he was back, back again, on American soil and in the flesh. He picked her up and twirled her around, and Natalie was giddy, smiling and laughing for him to be back. They were happy. They were happy, weren’t they? Right? Weren’t they happy?</p><p>His promise from before still hung in the air, and they officiated their marriage only a week after he had come back. They had it at the Baptist church his family went to, all the way out in the lonely country. It was a small chapel made of wood, the white paint already cracking and peeling off. The steeple stood proudly despite its age and material, topped off with a wind vane in the shape of a cross. The inside was even more plain, wooden pews in rows and a simple altar at the back. A worn wooden cross was tacked on the wall behind the pulpit. It was the only decoration in the church, but it was all they needed. Really, it’s all they could afford; not even bibles or hymn books were offered unless you were the preacher or the choir. If you needed a baptism, the creek that gurgled beside it offered its holy water. Despite its simplicity and the fact that Natalie had been raised Catholic, they still went there, you know, every Sunday.</p><p>How long had they been married when she’d got pregnant? A little past a year, she thought, but Natalie couldn’t remember exactly when. She didn’t care to keep up with that past because it really wasn’t much of a pregnancy to begin with. At least, looking back on it now, it hadn’t been much of one. This didn’t change the fact that it hurt, though. It hurt, lord, it hurt like one, and it still hurt if she thought about it long enough. </p><p>Oligohydramnios, caused by a problem with the placenta. That’s what they told her. Too low of amniotic fluid for the baby, ultimately resulting in a miscarriage. She’d only been eighteen weeks along, give or take. </p><p>She should have expected it. Natalie should have. It just seemed too easy. She cursed herself now for so easily falling into the comfort and excitement of it. Natalie, though, had always been hopeful and ever so optimistic. Even when saw the speckled blood on her underwear that morning, she stayed hopeful. Even as cramps shook through her body and left her unable to stand, she stayed ever so optimistic. </p><p>When the information hit her ears, the world seemed to stop for a moment. She paused, her eyes slowly widening and flicking between the doctor and her kind neighbor, Mrs.Smith, who had driven her there. Her hands laid in her lap, her feet on the ground. She didn’t believe what she was hearing, praying it was just so,e cruel joke. Yet, solemn faces didn’t change, and Mrs.Smith was reaching over to put a hand on her shoulder. Then it sped, fast and hard. She was sobbing, the doctor having left the room and Mrs.Smith holding her against her own chest and mumbling any reassurances she could offer. </p><p>She knew it was common. The magazines she had read made it very clear of the statistics and how it didn’t mean you were a bad mother. It wasn’t her fault, they droned on and on, and yet, it still felt like it was. It was just another shortcoming, another thing to add to her long list of why she made such a poor wife. She couldn’t bake, she couldn’t clean, she couldn’t look like one, and she now couldn’t have a child. The miscarriage taunted her, reminding her that no matter what she did, she was always going to be a horrible wife. She couldn’t even do something so innate. If you were generous, you’d say she was the shadow of a housewife; if you weren’t, you’d say she was but a distant whisper. </p><p>What good, if any, was Natalie Paquette? </p><p>(Natalie supposed that at one point, she wanted a baby too. She had, after all, wanted that one. She would have loved to be a mother, teaching a new life of the big world that laid around them and all they could accomplish. She was ready for the sleepless nights and the endless diaper changing, knowing that the struggles of parenthood would be rewarded with rich memories. She thought of reading bedtime stories and helping them take their first few uncertain steps. She thought of being hunched over the table, trying to help with homework as they both racked their brains to figure out a math problem. The gender didn’t matter much to her, but deep down she hoped for a boy. Not for Peter’s sake but for the baby’s sake. She wouldn’t wish the predetermined fate of a housewife upon it.) </p><p>Peter’s family tried their best to remain supportive, but there was still suspicion that Natalie had done something wrong. They thought it, but would never say it to Natalie’s face. Hell, some were certain, swearing it on the almighty god himself, that she <em>had</em> done something wrong. It hung in the air like humidity on a hot summer morning and stuck to each gift, each condolence, each visit. She hadn’t gotten enough bed rest. She’d put on too much weight too quickly. She’d reached to grab something that was too high. She had read too much. She wasn’t American. It was maybe one of those things, a combination, or all of them. Some were not even surprised. Peter had signed up for it when he had picked such a strange girl to begin with, and now he was dealing with the consequences. Some of them told him as much. Should have picked an American girl, Pete. Should have picked that girl way yonder; why’d you have to go and pick a broken one? </p><p>But nobody, absolutely nobody, blamed her as much as Peter. </p><p>Something changed the moment that Peter learned. Mrs.Smith called him from the doctor’s office, her tone low and serious, and informed him while Natalie still cried. </p><p>That day, the blonde had wanted nothing more than to be told it was going to be okay and to be held. It just didn’t seem like it would be again. The world seemed dark, very dark, and she just needed a light or something to cling to. Not forever, but in the moment, the weight was too heavy to carry alone. Yet, he came home, denied her any affections, and slept on the couch. He was silent for that whole night except for a single sentence he left her with. His tone was cold and dripping in a sacred poison as he spoke, hatred flickering from the words: </p><p>“You couldn’t even do this right.” </p><p>He didn’t mention the miscarriage again. </p><p>Conversations with him became like beating a dead horse. Short answers or pure silence became the norm. He slept on the couch and wouldn’t touch her for a month. After her procedure, he became a ghost. The more Natalie struggled around the house, the less he seemed to be there. Mrs.Smith from across the way was a better help than he ever was the entire time. Their house ultimately became a place only for him to eat and rest; other than that, Natalie didn’t see much of him. The blonde gave him excuses upon excuses, telling herself that it was hard on him too. After all, he probably wanted a baby more than she did herself. He was grieving, just in his own way; alone and distant, not wanting anything to do with her. She could work with that. She could. It hurt, god it hurt, but she could work with that. </p><p>(Natalie <em>had</em> to work with that. What else could she do?) </p><p>Time seemed to be her only savior. It dulled the pain and the reminder of her flaws. Long, dark days became long, lighter weeks, and those weeks grew to be somewhat normal months, and then the months bundled up into years of having an empty house. Peter warmed back up to her eventually, but he had changed into what he was now. More serious, more demanding, quicker to anger, suspicious and distrusting of his wife despite having no reason to. He still loved her though. He told her so himself, and he still kissed her. He did love her, and Natalie loved him. </p><p>(At least, she thought she loved him.) </p><p>They still tried again and again, more times than Natalie could count, but it amounted to nothing. Nothing she was instructed to do or try seemed to work; they were never blessed with a missed period ever again. In all honesty, she thought it was a lost cause, but she put on a brave, hopeful face for Peter. </p><p>(Even though it was growing obvious that he was losing it too. His patience was wearing so thin now. He had been growing moodier as of late, but the resilient Mrs.Price had chalked it up to his job becoming more stressful.) </p><p>The nursery, in turn, became a stalemate. Rarely was the door ever opened by either of them, but Natalie knew exactly how everything still laid. Nothing in there had been disturbed for the past couple of years, and there probably wouldn’t be a reason to mess with it again. Peter had just gotten the crib together after much trouble. The wood was painted a snowy white with cartoonish images of lambs hopping around in their wooden field. It was a Thayer set that they had ordered from the catalogue only about a week after they had found out. Excitement once teemed through the house, but it had fizzled out much quicker than anticipated. For that reason, the rest of the set still laid in its box, only with the cardboard cracked open as if its construction had only just paused for a lunch break. </p><p>Bottles, books, blankets. They were mainly gifts from equally excited family members. She’d snuck a few of her own childhood books in there too, all of them in French. Any child of hers would learn her native tongue, even if Peter despised it. Thick layers of dust, though, covered them now. </p><p>A light blue is what they decided to paint the room. She was usually one to enjoy warmer colors, but she had figured it would go along with the white furniture well. One wall had been painted surprisingly rather well; Natalie had the patience to paint a wall without any streaks or lumps in the paint. She had planned to paint the others eventually, maybe even find someone to paint on even more small lambs jumping and frolicking across the room, but these plans had come to a screeching halt. Had she even moved the paper underneath the now dried wall? She couldn’t remember. Now, just that wall was painted blue; the others were white.</p><p>The hopes for the room had died long ago, but something else was rotting along with it.</p><p>***</p><p>The doorknob twisted and turned, the metal grinding and clinking. No budge. It was jostled for a moment, the clinking growing more persistent, until it finally cracked open again. </p><p>Natalie carefully stepped inside, her eyes flicking around the small room. It was exactly how she remembered it, minus the layers of dust that now coated the contents of the room. Sunlight from the window filtered in, bringing in the only light the room had seen for years. </p><p>Hesitant hands touched the side of her hips, always cold but comforting, and the blonde fell back into the touch. Arms wrapped around her in a soft hug. </p><p>“Are you okay?” Renee asked quietly. Her eyes were looking around the room with interest, taking in each of the items. Her gaze lingered upon the crib and then the canisters of paint still on the floor, something beginning to brew beneath the pale blue. “You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to.” </p><p>“Non, it’s fine,” Natalie spoke, her tone quiet. The room, though still and untouched, was draining. She pulled away from the warm embrace to cross over to where a few books laid. Still exactly in the same place she’d left them. She picked up one from the stack and flipped through it without much thought; it’d been one of her own childhood books, the pages teared and weathered with a child’s love. Dust flew into the air, the sun making them look as if they were shining. “They’re just... things after all,” she traded out the book in her hands for another, “Nothing more, nothing less.” </p><p>Renee had averted her gaze back to the painted wall. Her eyes moved up and down, looking over the patient, even strokes, before settling on the paint buckets. Rollers and brushes sat beside them, their own coat of dust hugging them each. “It’s a pretty shade of blue,” she complimented, growing closer to the wall. </p><p>“Oui, I thought so too. I know it’s a little gendered, which really isn’t much in style now. All the magazines push for neutral colors so you don’t have to repaint it,” she spoke, her eyes still looking over the pages. The flicking of paper accompanied her words as she continued to look through the book, nostalgia rising from the pages as she saw the familiar scenes. “But I liked it and it seemed to work with the crib. Not to mention, keeping it white would of been so hard to keep clean,” she looked up at the other woman now, “So we chose- Renee, why are you picking that up?” </p><p>The older woman had picked up the roller now, examining it in her hands. She dusted off the best she could, a cloud of dust lifting into the air. “I think we’d have to get a new one of these, but I think the rest would work.” </p><p>Natalie stared at her, eyes raising and confusion filling her own bright blue eyes. “Quoi?” </p><p>“Well, it’s pretty old, so I think the lint would end up getting stuck in the paint or it just won’t low or... something. I don’t know much about painting to be honest.” </p><p>Her eyes got bigger, and her mouth hung slightly open. “Qu’est-ce que tu parles de?” she asked again, even more confused than before. “Ma chéri, what are you talking about?” </p><p>“I think we should finish painting it.” </p><p>Natalie gawked at her. Bright blue eyes were storming with confusion, unable to make the connection as to why Renee would suggest something like that. The older woman shouldn’t really have any interest in painting the room. After all, there will probably never be a baby that’s going to use it. There was no point, and besides, the room seemed to grow colder and rigid the longer Natalie stood in it. The room was a skeleton of a once thriving beast, but now it was dead and could only remind and haunt. </p><p>“I haven’t tried to paint a room in a long time, but I think we can figure it out together,” Renee continued to speak. She rested a hand against the sky blue wall, thumbing over the paint. She looked at it as if it were intricate blueprints. “‘Cause you did this, didn’t you? I doubt Peter did.” </p><p>An awkward laugh erupted from the blonde. Bewilderment had smothered her confusion. She adored the other woman, the blonde truly did, but what she was suggesting was stupid. Pressing a hand to her heart, she finally said, “Why would we want to finish painting it?” </p><p>Renee had sunk to the floor now, her hands turning the paint cans about. The muffled sound of sloshing could be heard, alerting both women of its potential. Her eyes were sharp while on the prowl for whatever on earth she was looking for. “Oh, you know...” she spoke, but her own satisfied hum interrupted her words. “Should still be fine. The lid is on tight, and it’s just two years old, I think.” </p><p>“Renee,” Natalie spoke again. She’d laid her book back down and was moving over to the other woman. The older woman was distracted once more, her mind probably buzzing over the supposed new task that they were going to tackle.</p><p>“Though... We probably need new pans and brushes...” </p><p>Natalie crouched down in front of her lover. Her unsure eyes drifted to paint can then back to the other woman. </p><p>“It looks like this one wasn’t cleaned out all the way, so it’ll have to be-“ </p><p>Renee only paused when soft hands were pressed against her cheeks. Pale blue eyes lifted up to meet bright blue. She stared like a deer in the headlights for a moment. </p><p>Natalie just offered a small smile despite the lack of explanation. “Renee, mon amour,” she cooed. </p><p>“Yeah?” A sheepish smile had already grown on the older woman’s face now, realizing what she’d done. </p><p>“Bonjour,” she teased for a moment. </p><p>That sheepish smile grew bigger. Natalie could feel the heat raising to the other woman’s cheeks. Slowly, it clicked in her lover’s mind. “Hello,” Renee greeted back. </p><p>The blonde’s smile grew more sincerely amused, and air blew out of her nose. Renee could get caught up in the rush of ideas, a flurry of thoughts almost seeming to push her one way or the other, as if more than just herself was thinking, and sometimes she needed grounding. The blonde could be the same way, her stubbornness, determination, and hyper focus mixing into a cocktail of getting caught up in whatever she was planning, so she understood. “Why do you want to finish painting it?” Natalie asked, her tone quiet and slow, for what felt like the fifteenth time. Finally, she had her attention. Her thumb traced over the other’s cheek. Her head tilted. “Just... seems a little silly.” </p><p>A sigh slipped out of the other woman’s lips. “It’s like,” Renee began, but ultimately shook her head. “You know I’m not good with words, Nat, but... I don’t like to leave something unfinished,” she explained. Her gaze had fallen to the paint can again and her hands went to fiddle the metal handle. It clanked back and forth in its own deep melody. “I think finishing something is always the right path to chose. Otherwise, you may... miss out on something or it’ll come back and bite you in the ass,” she chuckled at her words, obviously speaking from her own experience. “You’ve got to figure out where it leads, especially when it’s something like this. I know it’s painful, but... maybe living alongside it will take weight off your shoulder instead of... bottling it up.” </p><p>A few fingers tapped against Renee’s cheek. “You’re one to talk about bottling things up,” Natalie said, her words only harmless and teasing. They’d been working on that one. Renee was a private person; a match stick melting a glacier, it took a long time for her to warm up to anyone. The blonde, however, had been different. She had came in a wildfire, leaving behind an alpine lake nestled between carved rock. This didn’t mean she didn’t struggle still, but they were getting there, one day at a time. </p><p>(Despite her tease, the blonde could see a little truth in her words. In some ways, she was similar to Renee. Some were silly like neither of them were really morning people and neither of them cared for peaches. It was the same here; both could bottle up their emotions, leaving them on a shelf that will be forgotten, only to touched by dust ever again. For Renee, that’s just how she had always been; a childhood filled with disorganization, she never felt like she could trust people or be completely true with them. It was safer that way. She seldom opened her own jars, fearful of what grew in them after such disregard, but if she did, she handled it. Maybe not well and maybe needing help that she would never ask for, but she handled it. Natalie, on the other hand, hadn’t been raised this way. She shared everything with her father and let him know of her issues, and he had cared. It was only when she got into a relationship with Peter that she began to become more and more closed off. Any concern she gave was waved off or ignored. He left empty mason jars; she just filled, sealed, and stored them.)</p><p>Renee frowned at her and rolled her eyes. “Okay yeah, I know,” she grumbled, but there was no real bite to her words. “But... I think it’ll be good. We can finish what you’ve started and... talk about it, live with it,” Renee sighed, “Like... Okay, you know how Elliot always runs his mouth?”</p><p>(For both of them, though, this was changing through their combined diligence. Bottles were gingerly being taken off their shelves, carefully opened, and the contents were dealt with. While it took much longer with Renee’s collection, Natalie had let them fall and break without much hesitation. Only a seldom few remained, and one of them had been this room and it’s significance.) </p><p>“Who doesn’t?” Natalie teased, getting a grin from the other woman. </p><p>“See, you’re starting to understand.” </p><p>“Non, I was only teasing. He means well, Renee, you know that.” </p><p>The older woman’s grin turned into a frown, and she shook her head. She huffed, but Natalie leaning over and pressing a kiss to her nose made a smile crack through her annoyed facade. That certainly wouldn’t stand. It was promptly covered with a hand, and she pulled away from the others hands. This would have meant something had she not fallen back into the other’s touch when Natalie offered a chance for her to come closer with open arms. Having not received any affection for years only to know how lovely it could be from the right person, she’d never pass up an opportunity to be closer to Natalie. It looked as if they’d be there for a while, so settling on the dusty floor beside each other was more inviting than crouching for even longer. </p><p>(They really had a mess to clean up between them, but they could do it.) </p><p>Renee leaned against the other, letting her head rest on the blonde’s shoulder. “I know he does, but... sometimes he shares a little more than he should,” Renee resumed. She was already frowning at the thought. “Like... letting people know about... Philadelphia without asking me first.” She was referring to the woman before Natalie, though she never referred to her by name. It was always the city. Renee tried to forget that part of her past, but betrayal like that left scars. Thrown out like trash despite having been so valued moments before, it was hard to unlearn such fears and expectations. </p><p>Natalie stayed quiet, only listening. </p><p>“And... at first, it made me mad. I was livid. I don’t really like other people knowing my business, but I certainly hate when people tell other people about it. I was so mad at him, even though I don’t think he meant harm by it, and our relationship began to suffer because of it. I was losing... I was losing my brother, Nat. At least, it felt like that,” Renee drew in a breath, “I couldn’t keep avoiding it like I did with everything else. I don’t care about a lot of people in my life, but Elliot is one of them.” </p><p>(Natalie wondered who the others are, but she’s hoping and hoping that she is in that group.) </p><p>“So I confronted it. I talked to him about it. I probably wasn’t the nicest at first but... when I cooled down, we had an good conversation. We reached an understanding and he apologized, but I think the most important thing is that we learned about each other in ways I hadn’t before. I was thankful for the experience, and I can really only... fear what would of happened if I had avoided it.” She then sighed. “I mean, I know it isn’t like... as big as a deal as this-“ </p><p>“Non, I get what you mean-“</p><p>“But, I just think it’s... important. Just a good thing to do. It may be difficult, but I think it’s worth the bumps in the road to learn to live with it,” she concluded. Her hand then found the other’s, and she slowly held it in her own. “And, if it helps, I’ll be here. I can’t say I will have an answer or advice for everything, but I’ll be here for you. I’ll try my damnedest anyway. We can talk about it or... what’s that one thing you like to say?” </p><p>“Hug it out?” </p><p>“Yeah, that,” Renee shook her head and chuckled. To prove her point, she wrapped an arm around the other, making Natalie smile and nuzzle her face into the other’s shoulder. “You always like that one.” </p><p>Natalie just giggled. </p><p>“But just... think about it. I think it’ll help and be, you know, a good thing to do together.” </p><p>“I will,” Natalie said quietly. Her head rested on the other’s shoulder now, her eyes scanning around the room. Her attention had returned to the stagnant room they sat in, and the chill of the room was creeping back over her. “Coming... in here was a step, I think, but I don’t really know if I’m ready to face it just yet.” </p><p>“And that’s fine. Just think about it,” Renee replied softly. She gave her another squeeze and then began to get up. “Come on, I think it’s time for lunch. You’re gonna show me to make croque monsieurs, right?” Teaching Renee to cook usually meant her watching and sneaking in affection here and there, but the blonde didn’t mind it one bit. </p><p>The rest of the day carried on without a hitch. Croque monsieurs were made, a meatloaf for dinner was prepared, cookware was cleaned, Renee left, and Peter came home. </p><p>And the entire time, Natalie was thinking. She was thinking about the dust covering the books and the cobwebs hugging the crib. She was thinking about how the sunlight was the only thing to light up the forgotten room, yet the room still felt so cold. She was thinking of the pain that still lingered there, snapping and grabbing at the heels whoever walked in. She was thinking about the single painted wall in the room, paint cans still waiting nearby for the other three walls. </p><p>It was a few days later on a hot morning. As she dragged her sleepy feet down the hallway on her way to make breakfast before Peter woke up, she spied the tiniest crack in the doorway to that room. It couldn’t of been more than a centimeter, but it stuck out like a sore thumb. She had glanced there everyday since she’d went in with Renee, her thoughts still captivated by that room, but the blonde hadn’t noticed the crack. She paused, rubbing sleepy eyes, but her attention stayed on the crack. </p><p>(Natalie was rarely someone not to finish something. Once she set her mind to it or her interest was piqued, she become incredibly focused on the project and finished it sooner rather than later. Even the most complicated electronics were eventually tamed through her own resourcefulness. She did like the occasional challenge, always feeling like it kept her brain in fighting form and pushed her to do new things.) </p><p>When Renee came over that morning, she practically pulled Renee into the house, already dressed in stained overalls with an old T-shirt underneath. They got to work. Picking up supplies came first, then laying down the paper and tape, and then finally painting. Natalie seemed to be a natural, her patience and focus allowing her to masterfully color the white wall blue. Renee only fell a little behind, needing a few pointers from the blonde in the beginning, but she soon was able to swipe paint across the wall. They worked together on each wall with plenty of breaks, most for rest and a few for kisses, thrown in between. It went a wall at a time, a process simultaneously both slow and fast. With each finished wall, they took a break that could consist of many things, but it usually involved a warm, shared bath and a nap, the latter by Renee’s request. </p><p>(Now it was time to clean up the mess.) </p><p>The change that came with each stroke seeped in and broiled. The room was quick to welcome its new guests and graciously accepted the gifts offered to it. It drew in the new life and seemingly buzzed with it. Each second spent there grew kinder and kinder. The child that never was had been mourned for years, and while it would always stay like the tapping of a tree branch against a window, it was no longer ignored. It was, instead, greeted and offered a place to be, both to exist and to be remembered. It wasn’t hidden anymore. This was the best that could be offered for it could not be celebrated, for there was nothing to celebrate, but it could be held in memoriam. Grief accepted it willingly, and like the peaches that fell from their branches to rot and return to the earth, it settled. </p><p>And as for Natalie and the damage inflicted upon her?</p><p>(For that’s what it was, even if Natalie still considered it otherwise. This, however,  was waning. As she was shown what love could and should be, Natalie found she liked it much better. Peter’s patience for her may be waning, but Natalie’s excuses for him were waning too.) </p><p>Who was there to soothe her? </p><p>When Natalie’s throat closed and her unsteady hand held up the paintbrush for that first stroke, she stared and stared and stared. Facing a flaw that was forced upon you was never easy. She had believed it for so long, and like a dog that didn’t know any better, she never thought it could be wrong. Natalie was to blame for this dusty room. Natalie was to blame for the empty house. Natalie was to blame for her unhappy husband. Natalie was to blame. Natalie was to-</p><p>Arms wrapped around her from behind and held her tight. A face was nuzzled into her hair, and words of concern hit her ears. Then a kiss to the shoulder, and nothing short of holy words followed. They were not a magical cure, but they were something. Careful and light, soft and truthful, they were: </p><p>“It wasn’t your fault, Natalie. It never was to begin with.” </p><p>A hand traced along her arm and held the brush with her. “Let’s do it together, yeah?” the voice suggested, hopeful but patient. Natalie nodded, and together they did that first line of blue. </p><p>There was Renee. </p><p>It was between splattered paint and spilled bath water that Natalie learned that she loved her. Many moments stuck out to her, thinking them the moment when it finally clicked. Not just a quiet click but a brash one, both spontaneous and so wonderfully perfect. </p><p>It may have been when Natalie smeared paint on the other’s face, making Renee roll backwards onto the floor as she tried so hard to get away from the other. Her eyes had been so bright and lively, her smile big and her laughter even bigger. She was relaxed and playful with not a care in the world except for the blonde sitting across from her. The sight made Natalie’s heart ache and ache, feeling a deep warmth bud in her chest and a need to protect the precious sight in front of her. Even when Renee came back, her hand covered in paint and ready to strike, all Natalie was thinking was three words: I love you. Even as Renee smeared it on the pocket of her overalls, she thought three words: I love you. Even as Renee’s blue hand traced her cheek before cradling the skin as she gave the other a kiss, she thought three words: I love you. </p><p>It may have been when Natalie was shampooing the other’s hair, Renee moving closer and closer into the touch until she was laying against the other. As they settled into the embrace, there were no complaints over little space. Renee pressing butterfly kisses to her jawline and tracing fingers along the other’s neck, her own unique chuckles escaping her lips, told Natalie how much she had loved Renee before this. As she felt Renee grow heavy in her arms, her eyes fluttering closed and her breathing slow, Natalie teased the other awake with kisses and soft words; it was then when the blonde knew how much Natalie loved her now. Once they dried off and laid in bed because Natalie insisted on a nap for the other, they talked and laughed as Natalie traced her hands along the other’s chest and stomach, willing purrs and soft murmurs from the other woman. It was when Renee fell asleep, head tucked under the other’s chin and arms loosely around the other that Natalie realized that she will love this woman forever. </p><p>It may have been when she hugged her goodbye. She’d hug her once, close and tight, and let her go, but then a second would drag and she’d move back into the embrace. As Renee waited, arms outstretched to prepare for the hugs she couldn’t escape, Natalie knew she loved her. As she held her close and tight, breathing in the smell of her shampoo and feeling tears of joy prick in the corners of her eyes from this glorious revelation, she knew without a doubt that she loved her. As she watched the other leave, promises of seeing the other tomorrow leaving the other’s lips while Natalie’s own words are twisted together because she wanted to say those three words but couldn’t, not quite yet, Natalie knew that she loved Renee.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey y'all! </p><p>So this chapter took me just a wee bit longer. Originally, I didn't plan on this nor was I sure if I would implement it because it is a much more serious topic, but after discussing it with a dear friend of mine, I decided to try it. I spent a good portion of time grooming through resources to make this accurate, and I'll include them in my works cited! I also added a sentence to make it more accurate. </p><p>As always, comments and kudos are always loved and appreciated! If you've got any questions, suggestions, or just wanna talk about darksparks, my tumblr is giraffe-lesbian and my twitter is Vampurr1 ! Thank you all for your patience and your audience! :^D Next chapter will not take as long, I promise!</p>
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